Chapter 23

The following day, January 10, the Nautilus resumed its travels at a remarkable speed that I estimated to be at least thirty-five miles per hour. The propeller was going so fast I could neither follow nor count its revolutions. I thought about how this marvelous electric force not only gave motion, heat, and light to the Nautilus but even protected it against outside attack.

During our voyage, Captain Nemo conducted interesting experiments on the different temperatures in various strata of the sea. Captain Nemo brought a real passion to his experiments. I often wondered why he took these observations. Were they for the benefit of the mankind? It was unlikely, because sooner or later his work would perish with him in some unknown sea! Unless he intended the results of his experiments for me. But that meant this strange voyage of mine would come to an end, and no such end was in sight.

Meanwhile Captain Nemo also introduced me to the different data he had obtained on the relative densities of the water in our globe’s chief seas.

On January 18 the Nautilus lay in longitude 105 degrees and latitude 15 degrees south. The weather was threatening, the sea rough.

I had climbed onto the platform. Out of habit I waited for him to pronounce his daily phrase. But that day it was replaced by a different phrase, just as incomprehensible. Almost at once I saw Captain Nemo appear, lift his spyglass, and inspect the horizon.

For some minutes the captain stood motionless. Then he lowered his spyglass and exchanged about ten words with his chief officer. The latter was excited. Captain Nemo remained cool. He strolled from one end of the platform to the other, not glancing at me, perhaps not even seeing me. His step was firm but less regular than usual. Sometimes he would stop, cross his arms over his chest, and observe the sea. What could he be looking for over that immense expanse? By then the Nautilus lay hundreds of miles from the nearest coast!

The chief officer kept lifting his spyglass and stubbornly examining the horizon, walking up and down. Captain Nemo gave orders to increase speed.

I went below to the lounge and brought back an excellent long-range telescope I habitually used. But no sooner had I peered into the eyepiece than the instrument was snatched from my hands.

I turned around. Captain Nemo was standing before me, but I almost didn’t recognize him. His facial features were transfigured. Gleaming with dark fire, his eyes had shrunk beneath his frowning brow. His teeth were half bared. His rigid body, clenched fists, and head drawn between his shoulders, all attested to a fierce hate breathing from every pore. He didn’t move. My spyglass fell from his hand and rolled at his feet.

Had I accidentally caused these symptoms of anger? Did this incomprehensible man think I had detected some secret forbidden to guests on the Nautilus?

No! I wasn’t the subject of his hate because he wasn’t even looking at me; his eyes stayed stubbornly focused on the inscrutable point of the horizon.

Finally Captain Nemo regained his self-control. His facial appearance, so profoundly changed, now resumed its usual calm. He addressed a few words to his chief officer in their strange language, then he turned to me:

“Professor Aronnax,” he told me in a tone of some urgency, “you and your companions must be placed in confinement until I set you free.”

“You’re in command,” I answered. “But may I address a question to you?”

“You may not, sir.”

I went below to the cabin occupied by Ned Land and Conseil, and I informed them of the captain’s decision. I’ll let the reader decide how this news was received by the Canadian. In any case, there was no time for explanations. Four crewmen were waiting at the door, and they led us to the cell where we had spent our first night aboard the Nautilus.

“Will master tell me what this means?” Conseil asked me.

I told my companions what had happened. They were astonished. Ned Land said:

“Well, look here! Lunch is served!”

Indeed, the table had been laid.

“Unfortunately,” Ned Land said, “they’ve only given us the standard menu.”

“Ned my friend,” Conseil answered, “what would you say if they’d given us no lunch at all?”

We sat down at the table. Our meal proceeded in silence. I ate very little. Then, when lunch over, each of us propped himself in a corner.

Just then the luminous globe lighting our cell went out, leaving us in profound darkness. Ned Land soon dozed off, and to my astonishment, Conseil also fell into a heavy slumber. I was wondering what could have caused this urgent need for sleep, when I felt sleepy as well. I tried to keep my eyes open, but they closed in spite of me.

I tried to fight off this drowsiness. It was impossible. My breathing grew weaker. My lids fell over my eyes. I couldn’t raise them. A morbid sleep, full of hallucinations, seized my whole being.

Chapter 24

The next day I woke up with my head unusually clear. Much to my surprise, I was in my stateroom. No doubt my companions had been put back in their cabin without noticing it. We had no idea what took place during the night.

I then considered leaving my stateroom. Was I free or still a prisoner? I opened my door, headed down the gangways, and climbed the central companionway. I arrived on the platform.

Ned Land and Conseil were there waiting for me. I questioned them. They knew nothing. Lost in a heavy sleep of which they had no memory, they were quite startled to be back in their cabin.

As for the Nautilus, it seemed as tranquil and mysterious as ever. It was cruising on the surface of the waves at a moderate speed. Nothing seemed to have changed on board.

Ned Land observed the sea with his penetrating eyes. It was deserted. The Canadian sighted nothing new on the horizon, neither sail nor shore. A breeze was blowing noisily from the west.

As for Captain Nemo, he didn’t appear. Of the other men on board, I saw only my emotionless steward.

Near two o’clock I was busy in the lounge, when the captain opened the door and appeared. I bowed to him. He gave me a bow in return, without saying a word to me. I resumed my work, hoping he might give me some explanation of the previous afternoon’s events. He did nothing of the sort. I stared at him. His face looked exhausted. He walked up and down, sat and stood, picked up a book, discarded it immediately, consulted his instruments.

Finally he came over to me and said:

“Are you a physician, Professor Aronnax?”

This inquiry was so unexpected that I stared at him without replying.

“Are you a physician?” he repeated. “Several of your scientific colleagues took their degrees in medicine.”

“That’s right,” I said, “I am a doctor, I was in practice for several years before joining themuseum.”

“Excellent, sir.”

My reply obviously pleased Captain Nemo. But waited for further questions, ready to reply.

“Someone is sick?” I asked.

“Yes. A crewman.”

“I’m ready to go with you.”

“Come.”

Lord knows why, but I saw a definite connection between this sick crewman and yesterday’s happenings. Captain Nemo led me to the Nautilus’s stern and invited me into a cabin located next to the sailors’ quarters.

On a bed there lay a man some forty years old. I bent over him. Not only was he sick, he was wounded. His head was resting on a pillow.

It was a horrible wound. The cranium had been smashed open by some instrument, leaving the naked brains exposed. Both contusion and concussion of the brain had occurred. Cerebral inflammation was complete and had brought on a paralysis of movement and sensation.

I took the wounded man’s pulse. It was intermittent. I saw that death was approaching. After dressing the poor man’s wound, I turned to Captain Nemo.

“How did he get this wound?” I asked him.

“That’s not important,” the captain replied evasively. “The Nautilus suffered a collision that cracked one of the engine levers, and it struck this man. My chief officer was standing beside him. What’s your diagnosis of his condition?”

I hesitated to speak.

“You may talk freely,” the captain told me. “This man doesn’t understand French.”

I took a last look at the wounded man, then I replied:

“This man will be dead in two hours.”

“Nothing can save him?”

“Nothing.”

Captain Nemo clenched his fists, and tears slid from his eyes, which I had thought incapable of weeping.

“You may go, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo told me.

I left the captain in the dying man’s cabin and I went to my stateroom, very moved by this scene. That night I slept poorly, and between my fitful dreams, I thought I heard a distant moaning, like a funeral dirge. Was it a prayer for the dead, murmured in that language I couldn’t understand?

The next morning I climbed on deck. Captain Nemo was already there. As soon as he saw me, he came over.

“Professor,” he said to me, “would it be convenient for you to make an underwater excursion today?”

“With my companions?” I asked.

“If they’re agreeable.”

“We’re yours to command, captain.”

“Then kindly put on your diving suits.”

I rejoined Ned Land and Conseil. I informed them of Captain Nemo’s proposition. Conseil was eager to accept, and this time the Canadian joined us.

It was eight o’clock in the morning. By 8:30 we were suited up for this new stroll and equipped with our two devices for lighting and breathing. The double door opened, and accompanied by Captain Nemo with a dozen crewmen following, we set foot on the firm seafloor where the Nautilus was resting, ten meters down.

This bottom was completely different from the one I had visited during my first excursion under the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Here I saw no sand, no underwater prairies. It was the coral realm. After two hours of walking, we reached a depth of about 300 meters. It was an immense forest, huge mineral vegetation.

Meanwhile Captain Nemo stopped walking, and turning around, I saw the crewmen form a semicircle around their leader. Looking with greater care, I observed that four of them were carrying on their shoulders an object that was oblong in shape.

In the middle of the clearing, on a pedestal of roughly piled rocks, there stood a cross of coral.

At a signal from Captain Nemo, one of his men stepped forward and, a few feet from this cross, detached a mattock from his belt and began to dig a hole.

I finally understood! This clearing was a cemetery! Captain Nemo and his men had come to bury their companion in this place on the inaccessible ocean floor!

The hole grew longer, wider, and soon was deep enough to receive the body. Wrapped in white fabric, the body was lowered into its watery grave. Captain Nemo, arms crossed over his chest, knelt in a posture of prayer, as did all the friends of him. My two companions and I bowed reverently.

When this was done, Captain Nemo and his men stood up; then they all approached the grave, and extended their hands in a sign of final farewell.

Then the funeral party went back up the path to the Nautilus. By one o’clock we had returned.

After changing clothes, I climbed onto the platform. Captain Nemo rejoined me. I stood up and said to him:

“So, as I predicted, that man died during the night?”

“Yes, Professor Aronnax,” Captain Nemo replied.

“And now he rests in that coral cemetery?”

“Yes, forgotten by the world but not by us!”

And with a sudden gesture, the captain hid his face in his clenched fists. Then he added:

“There lies our peaceful cemetery, hundreds of feet beneath the surface of the waves!”

“At least, captain, your dead can sleep serenely there, out of the reach of sharks!”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Nemo replied solemnly, “of sharks and men!”