Chapter 19

On January 4, we raised the coast of Papua. On this occasion Captain Nemo told me that he intended to reach the Indian Ocean via the Torres Strait. Ned saw with pleasure that this course would bring us closer to the European seas.

The Torres Strait is regarded as dangerous for its reefs. So the Nautilus hove before the entrance to the world’s most dangerous strait, a passageway that even the boldest navigators hesitated to clear. It is about thirty-four leagues wide, but it’s obstructed by an incalculable number of islands, islets, and rocks that make it nearly impossible to navigate.

Around the Nautilus the sea was boiling furiously.

“That’s one rough sea!” Ned Land told me.

“Abominable indeed,” I replied, “and hardly suitable for a craft like the Nautilus.”

“That damned captain,” the Canadian went on, “must really be sure of his course!”

The situation was indeed dangerous, but as if by magic, the boat seemed to glide right down the middle of rampaging reefs.

But a sudden jolt threw me down. The Nautilus had just struck a reef, and it remained motionless.

When I stood up, I saw Captain Nemo and his chief officer on the platform. They were examining the ship’s circumstances, exchanging a few words in their incomprehensible dialect.

“An accident?” I asked Captain Nemo.

“No, an incident,” he answered me.

“But an incident,” I replied, “that may oblige you to become a resident again of these shores you avoid!”

Captain Nemo gave me an odd look and gestured no. Then he said:

“No, Professor Aronnax, the Nautilus will still carry you through the midst of the ocean’s wonders. Our voyage is just beginning, and I’ve no desire to deprive myself so soon of the pleasure of your company.”

This said, Captain Nemo went back inside the ship, followed by his chief officer.

“Well, sir?” Ned Land said to me, coming up after the captain’s departure.

“Well, Ned my friend, we’ll serenely wait for the tide.”

The Canadian shrugged his shoulders. The seaman in him was talking now.

“Sir,” he answered, “you can trust me when I say this hunk of iron will never navigate again, on the seas or under them. It’s only fit to be sold for its weight. So I think it’s time to leave Captain Nemo.”

“Ned is right,” Conseil said, “Couldn’t master persuade his friend Captain Nemo to send the three of us ashore?”

“I can ask him,” I replied, “but he’ll refuse.”

“Let master take the risk,” Conseil said.

Much to my surprise, Captain Nemo gave me the permission I asked for, and he did so with grace and alacrity, not even asking my promise to return on board.

The next day, January 5, the skiff was wrenched from its socket and launched to sea from the top of the platform. The oars were inside the longboat and we had only to take our seats.

At eight o’clock, armed with rifles and axes, we left the Nautilus. The sea was fairly calm. A mild breeze blew from shore. Conseil and I rowed vigorously.

Ned Land couldn’t conceal his glee. He was a prisoner escaping from prison.

“Meat!” he kept repeating. “Now we’ll eat red meat!”

Chapter 21

Ned Land tested the soil with his foot. Yet it had been only two months since we had become, as Captain Nemo expressed it, “passengers on the Nautilus,” in other words, the literal prisoners of its commander.

The entire horizon was hidden behind a curtain of wonderful forests. Enormous trees, sometimes as high as 200 feet, were linked to each other by garlands of tropical creepers. The Canadian spotted a coconut palm, beat down some of its fruit, broke them open, and we drank their milk and ate their meat.

“Excellent!” Ned Land said.

“Exquisite!” Conseil replied.

“And I don’t think,” the Canadian said, “that your Nemo would object to us bringing some coconuts aboard his vessel?”

“I imagine not,” I replied, “but he won’t try them.”

“Too bad for him!” Conseil said.

“And plenty good for us!” Ned Land shot back.

“A word of caution, Mr. Land,” I told the harpooner. “Coconuts are admirable things, but it would be wise to find out whether this island offers other things just as useful, for example, some fresh vegetables.”

“Master is right,” Conseil replied, “and I propose that we set aside three places in our longboat: one for fruit, another for vegetables, and a third for venison.”

“So let’s continue our excursion,” I went on, “but keep a sharp lookout!”

“Ha!” Ned put in, with a meaningful movement of his jaws. “I’m starting to appreciate the charms of cannibalism!”

“Ned, Ned! Don’t say that!” Conseil answered. “You a cannibal? Why, I’ll no longer be safe next to you, and I share your cabin! Does this mean I’ll wake up half devoured one fine day?”

“I’m awfully fond of you, Conseil my friend, but not enough to eat you when there’s better food around. We need some fruit, or at least some vegetables.”

“Then let’s look for fruit and vegetables.”

“And we mustn’t wander too far off,” Conseil added. “That’s why I propose that we return to the skiff.”

“What! Already!” Ned exclaimed.

“We ought to be back before nightfall,” I said.

“But what hour is it, then?” the Canadian asked.

“Two o’clock at least,” Conseil replied.

“How time flies on solid ground!” exclaimed Mr. Ned Land with a sigh of regret.

“Off we go!” Conseil replied.

We returned through the forest, and we were overloaded when we arrived at the skiff. We left the island beach and half an hour later pulled alongside the Nautilus. Nobody appeared on our arrival. The enormous sheet-iron cylinder seemed deserted. I went below to my stateroom. There I found my supper ready. I ate and then fell asleep.

The next day, January 6, nothing new happened on board. Not a sound inside, not a sign of life. The skiff stayed alongside in the same place we had left it. We decided to return to the island. Ned Land wanted to visit a different part of the forest.

Ned Land went westward up the coast; then he reached open plains that were bordered by wonderful forests.

We were satisfied with the results of our hunting. By six o’clock in the evening, we were back on the beach. The skiff was aground in its usual place. The Nautilus, looking like a long reef, emerged from the waves two miles offshore.

In short, dinner was excellent.

“What if we don’t return to the Nautilus this evening?” Conseil said.

“What if we never return to it?” Ned Land added.

Just then a stone whizzed toward us and landed at our feet.

Chapter 22

We stared in the direction of the forest.

“Stones don’t fall from the sky,” Conseil said, “or else they deserve to be called meteorites.”

A second well-polished stone removed a tasty ringdove leg from Conseil’s hand. We all three stood up, rifles to our shoulders, ready to answer any attack.

“Apes maybe?” Ned Land exclaimed.

“Nearly,” Conseil replied. “Savages.”

“Head for the skiff!” I said, moving toward the sea.

Indeed, some twenty natives, armed with bows and slings, appeared barely a hundred paces off. The savages approached without running. It was raining stones and arrows.

Ned Land, despite the impending danger, clutched his pig on one side, his kangaroos on the other, and ran with respectable speed.

In two minutes we were on the strand. Loading provisions and weapons into the skiff, pushing it to sea, were the work of an instant. A hundred savages, howling and gesticulating, entered the water up to their waists. I looked at the Nautilus. Lying well out, that enormous machine still seemed completely deserted.

Twenty minutes later we boarded ship. The hatches were open. We reentered the Nautilus’s interior.

I went below to the lounge. Captain Nemo was there, leaning over the organ, deep in a musical trance.

“Captain!” I said to him.

He didn’t hear me.

“Captain!” I went on, touching him with my hand.

He trembled, and turning around:

“Ah, it’s you, professor!” he said to me. “Well, did you have a happy hunt?”

“Yes, captain,” I replied, “but unfortunately we’ve brought back a horde of savages whose proximity worries me.”

“Savages!” Captain Nemo replied in an ironic tone. “You’re surprised to find savages there? Where aren’t there savages? And besides, are they any worse than men elsewhere, these people you call savages?”

“But captain—”

“Speaking for myself, sir, I’ve encountered them everywhere.”

“Well then,” I replied, “if you don’t want to welcome them aboard the Nautilus, you’d better take some precautions! The natives are near.”

“How many?”

“At least a hundred.”

“Professor Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, whose fingers took their places again on the organ keys, “the Nautilus has nothing to fear from their attacks!”

The captain’s fingers then ran over the instrument’s keyboard, and I noticed that he touched only its black keys. Soon he had forgotten my presence and was lost in a reverie.

I climbed onto the platform. Night had already fallen. I could see the island only dimly. But numerous fires had been kindled on the beach: the natives had no thoughts of leaving it.

For several hours I was left to myself. The moon shone in the midst of the constellations at their zenith. Near midnight I went to my cabin and fell into a peaceful sleep.

At six o’clock in the morning, January 8, I climbed onto the platform.

The islanders were still there, in greater numbers than on the day before, perhaps 500 or 600 of them. Some of them had moved forward over the heads of coral. I could easily distinguish them. They were athletic in build, forehead high and broad, nose large but not flat, teeth white. I noted some women among them, dressed from hip to knee in grass skirts held up by belts made of vegetation. Armed with bows, arrows, and shields, nearly all of them carried from their shoulders a sort of net, which held those polished stones.

One of these chieftains came fairly close to the Nautilus, examining it with care. During this whole time of low tide, the islanders lurked near the ship, but they weren’t boisterous. I often heard them repeat the word “assai,” and from their gestures I understood they were inviting me to go ashore, an invitation I declined.

Soon the situation had changed. Now some twenty canoes were surrounding the Nautilus. Hollowed from tree trunks, these dugouts were long, narrow, and well designed for speed. They were maneuvered by skillful, half-naked paddlers. The canoes drew nearer to the ship, and a cloud of arrows burst over us.

“We’ve got to alert Captain Nemo,” I thought, reentering the hatch.

I went below to the lounge. I found no one there. I knocked at the door opening into the captain’s stateroom.

The word “Enter!” answered me. I did so and found Captain Nemo busy with calculations.

“Sir, native canoes are surrounding us.”

“Ah!” Captain Nemo answered. “They’ve come in their dugouts?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, sir, closing the hatches should do the trick.”

“Precisely, and that’s what I came to tell you—”

“Nothing easier,” Captain Nemo said.

And he pressed an electric button, transmitting an order to the crew’s quarters.

“There, sir, all under control!” he told me after a few moments. “The skiff is in place and the hatches are closed.”

“But, captain, one danger still remains.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“Tomorrow at about this time, we’ll need to reopen the hatches to renew the Nautilus’s air. And if these savages are occupying the platform at that moment, I don’t see how you can prevent them from entering.”

“Then, sir, you assume they’ll board the ship?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“Well, sir, let them come aboard. I see no reason to prevent them. I don’t want my visit to this island to cost the life of a single one of these unfortunate people!”

I was left to myself; I went to bed but slept poorly. I heard noises from the savages, who were stamping on the platform. The night passed in this way.

I got up at six o’clock in the morning. The hatches weren’t open. So the air inside hadn’t been renewed.

I worked in my stateroom until noon without seeing Captain Nemo even for an instant. Nobody on board seemed to be making any preparations for departure.

I still waited for a while, then I made my way to the main lounge. At 2:35 Captain Nemo appeared in the lounge.

“We’re about to depart,” he said.

“Ah!” I answered.

“I’ve given orders to open the hatches.”

“What about the savages?”

“What about them?” Captain Nemo replied.

“Won’t they come inside the Nautilus?”

“How will they manage that?”

“By jumping down the hatches you’re about to open.”

“Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied serenely, “the Nautilus’s hatches aren’t to be entered in that fashion even when they’re open.”

I looked at the captain.

“You don’t understand?” he said to me.

“Not in the least.”

“Well, come along and you’ll see!”

I headed to the central companionway. There, very puzzled, Ned Land and Conseil watched the crewmen opening the hatches, while a frightful clamor and furious shouts resounded outside.

The hatch lids fell back. Twenty horrible faces appeared. But when the first islander laid hands on the companionway railing, he was flung backward by some invisible power! He ran off, howling in terror. Ten of his companions followed him. All ten met the same fate.

Ned Land leaped up the companionway. But as soon as his hands seized the railing, he was thrown backward in his turn.

“Damnation!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt!”

These words explained everything to me. The metal cable is fully charged with the ship’s electricity. Anyone who touched it got a fearsome shock.

Nautilus left its coral bed. Gathering speed little by little, the ship navigated on the surface of the ocean.