I let the gallant lad babble as he pleased, without giving himmuch in the way of a reply. I was concerned about Captain Nemo'sabsence during our session the previous afternoon, and I hopedto see him again today.
Soon I had put on my clothes, which were woven from strands ofseashell tissue. More than once their composition provoked commentsfrom Conseil. I informed him that they were made from the smooth,silken filaments with which the fan mussel, a type of seashell quiteabundant along Mediterranean beaches, attaches itself to rocks.In olden times, fine fabrics, stockings, and gloves were made fromsuch filaments, because they were both very soft and very warm.So the Nautilus's crew could dress themselves at little cost,without needing a thing from cotton growers, sheep, or silkworms on shore.
As soon as I was dressed, I made my way to the main lounge.It was deserted.
I dove into studying the conchological treasures amassed insidethe glass cases. I also investigated the huge plant albums thatwere filled with the rarest marine herbs, which, although theywere pressed and dried, still kept their wonderful colors.Among these valuable water plants, I noted various seaweed:some Cladostephus verticillatus, peacock's tails, fig-leafed caulerpa,grain-bearing beauty bushes, delicate rosetangle tinted scarlet,sea colander arranged into fan shapes, mermaid's cups that lookedlike the caps of squat mushrooms and for years had been classifiedamong the zoophytes; in short, a complete series of algae.
The entire day passed without my being honored by a visitfrom Captain Nemo. The panels in the lounge didn't open.Perhaps they didn't want us to get tired of these beautiful things.
The Nautilus kept to an east-northeasterly heading, a speed of twelvemiles per hour, and a depth between fifty and sixty meters.
Next day, November 10: the same neglect, the same solitude.I didn't see a soul from the crew. Ned and Conseil spentthe better part of the day with me. They were astonished atthe captain's inexplicable absence. Was this eccentric man ill?Did he want to change his plans concerning us?
But after all, as Conseil noted, we enjoyed complete freedom,we were daintily and abundantly fed. Our host had kept to the termsof his agreement. We couldn't complain, and moreover the veryuniqueness of our situation had such generous rewards in store for us,we had no grounds for criticism.
That day I started my diary of these adventures, which has enabled meto narrate them with the most scrupulous accuracy; and one odd detail:I wrote it on paper manufactured from marine eelgrass.
Early in the morning on November 11, fresh air poured throughthe Nautilus's interior, informing me that we had returnedto the surface of the ocean to renew our oxygen supply.I headed for the central companionway and climbed onto the platform.
It was six o'clock. I found the weather overcast, the sea gray but calm.Hardly a billow. I hoped to encounter Captain Nemo there--would he come?I saw only the helmsman imprisoned in his glass-windowed pilothouse.Seated on the ledge furnished by the hull of the skiff, I inhaledthe sea's salty aroma with great pleasure.
Little by little, the mists were dispersed under the actionof the sun's rays. The radiant orb cleared the eastern horizon.Under its gaze, the sea caught on fire like a trail of gunpowder.Scattered on high, the clouds were colored in bright, wonderfullyshaded hues, and numerous "ladyfingers" warned of daylong winds.*
*Author's Note: "Ladyfingers" are small, thin, white cloudswith ragged edges.
But what were mere winds to this Nautilus, which no stormscould intimidate!
So I was marveling at this delightful sunrise, so life-givingand cheerful, when I heard someone climbing onto the platform.
I was prepared to greet Captain Nemo, but it was his chiefofficer who appeared--whom I had already met during our firstvisit with the captain. He advanced over the platform,not seeming to notice my presence. A powerful spyglass to his eye,he scrutinized every point of the horizon with the utmost care.Then, his examination over, he approached the hatch and pronounceda phrase whose exact wording follows below. I remember it because,every morning, it was repeated under the same circumstances.It ran like this:
"Nautron respoc lorni virch."
What it meant I was unable to say.
These words pronounced, the chief officer went below again.I thought the Nautilus was about to resume its underwater navigating.So I went down the hatch and back through the gangways to my stateroom.
Five days passed in this way with no change in our situation.Every morning I climbed onto the platform. The same phrase waspronounced by the same individual. Captain Nemo did not appear.
I was pursuing the policy that we had seen the last of him,when on November 16, while reentering my stateroom with Nedand Conseil, I found a note addressed to me on the table.
I opened it impatiently. It was written in a script that was clearand neat but a bit "Old English" in style, its characters remindingme of German calligraphy.
The note was worded as follows:
Professor Aronnax
Aboard the Nautilus
November 16, 1867
Captain Nemo invites Professor Aronnax on a hunting trip thatwill take place tomorrow morning in his Crespo Island forests.He hopes nothing will prevent the professor from attending, and he looksforward with pleasure to the professor's companions joining him.
CAPTAIN NEMO,
Commander of the Nautilus.
"A hunting trip!" Ned exclaimed.
"And in his forests on Crespo Island!" Conseil added.
"But does this mean the old boy goes ashore?" Ned Land went on.
"That seems to be the gist of it," I said, rereading the letter.
"Well, we've got to accept!" the Canadian answered."Once we're on solid ground, we'll figure out a course of action.Besides, it wouldn't pain me to eat a couple slices of fresh venison!"
Without trying to reconcile the contradictions between Captain Nemo'sprofessed horror of continents or islands and his invitation to gohunting in a forest, I was content to reply:
"First let's look into this Crespo Island."
I consulted the world map; and in latitude 32 degrees 40'north and longitude 167 degrees 50' west, I found an islet that hadbeen discovered in 1801 by Captain Crespo, which old Spanish chartscalled Rocca de la Plata, in other words, "Silver Rock." So we wereabout 1,800 miles from our starting point, and by a slight changeof heading, the Nautilus was bringing us back toward the southeast.
I showed my companions this small, stray rock in the middleof the north Pacific.
"If Captain Nemo does sometimes go ashore," I told them, "at leasthe only picks desert islands!"
Ned Land shook his head without replying; then he and Conseil left me.After supper was served me by the mute and emotionless steward,I fell asleep; but not without some anxieties.
When I woke up the next day, November 17, I sensed that the Nautiluswas completely motionless. I dressed hurriedly and enteredthe main lounge.
Captain Nemo was there waiting for me. He stood up, bowed, and askedif it suited me to come along.
Since he made no allusion to his absence the past eight days,I also refrained from mentioning it, and I simply answered that mycompanions and I were ready to go with him.
"Only, sir," I added, "I'll take the liberty of addressinga question to you."
"Address away, Professor Aronnax, and if I'm able to answer, I will."
"Well then, captain, how is it that you've severed all ties withthe shore, yet you own forests on Crespo Island?"
"Professor," the captain answered me, "these forests of minedon't bask in the heat and light of the sun. They aren'tfrequented by lions, tigers, panthers, or other quadrupeds.They're known only to me. They grow only for me. These forestsaren't on land, they're actual underwater forests."
"Underwater forests!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, professor."
"And you're offering to take me to them?"
"Precisely."
"On foot?"
"Without getting your feet wet."
"While hunting?"
br />
"While hunting."
"Rifles in hand?"
"Rifles in hand."
I stared at the Nautilus's commander with an air anything butflattering to the man.
"Assuredly," I said to myself, "he's contracted some mental illness.He's had a fit that's lasted eight days and isn't over even yet.What a shame! I liked him better eccentric than insane!"
These thoughts were clearly readable on my face; but Captain Nemoremained content with inviting me to follow him, and I did so likea man resigned to the worst.
We arrived at the dining room, where we found breakfast served.
"Professor Aronnax," the captain told me, "I beg you to sharemy breakfast without formality. We can chat while we eat.Because, although I promised you a stroll in my forests, I madeno pledge to arrange for your encountering a restaurant there.Accordingly, eat your breakfast like a man who'll probably eatdinner only when it's extremely late."
I did justice to this meal. It was made up of various fishand some slices of sea cucumber, that praiseworthy zoophyte,all garnished with such highly appetizing seaweed as the Porphyralaciniata and the Laurencia primafetida. Our beverage consistedof clear water to which, following the captain's example, I addedsome drops of a fermented liquor extracted by the Kamchatka processfrom the seaweed known by name as Rhodymenia palmata.
At first Captain Nemo ate without pronouncing a single word.Then he told me:
"Professor, when I proposed that you go hunting in my Crespo forests,you thought I was contradicting myself. When I informed you that itwas an issue of underwater forests, you thought I'd gone insane.Professor, you must never make snap judgments about your fellow man."
"But, captain, believe me--"
"Kindly listen to me, and you'll see if you have grounds for accusingme of insanity or self-contradiction."
"I'm all attention."
"Professor, you know as well as I do that a man can live underwaterso long as he carries with him his own supply of breathable air.For underwater work projects, the workman wears a waterproof suitwith his head imprisoned in a metal capsule, while he receives airfrom above by means of force pumps and flow regulators."
"That's the standard equipment for a diving suit," I said.
"Correct, but under such conditions the man has no freedom.He's attached to a pump that sends him air through an india-rubber hose;it's an actual chain that fetters him to the shore, and if we wereto be bound in this way to the Nautilus, we couldn't go far either."
"Then how do you break free?" I asked.
"We use the Rouquayrol-Denayrouze device, invented by two of yourfellow countrymen but refined by me for my own special uses,thereby enabling you to risk these new physiological conditionswithout suffering any organic disorders. It consists of a tankbuilt from heavy sheet iron in which I store air under a pressureof fifty atmospheres. This tank is fastened to the back by meansof straps, like a soldier's knapsack. Its top part forms a boxwhere the air is regulated by a bellows mechanism and can bereleased only at its proper tension. In the Rouquayrol devicethat has been in general use, two india-rubber hoses leave thisbox and feed to a kind of tent that imprisons the operator's noseand mouth; one hose is for the entrance of air to be inhaled,the other for the exit of air to be exhaled, and the tongue closesoff the former or the latter depending on the breather's needs.But in my case, since I face considerable pressures at the bottomof the sea, I needed to enclose my head in a copper sphere,like those found on standard diving suits, and the two hosesfor inhalation and exhalation now feed to that sphere."
"That's perfect, Captain Nemo, but the air you carry must bequickly depleted; and once it contains no more than 15% oxygen,it becomes unfit for breathing."
"Surely, but as I told you, Professor Aronnax, the Nautilus'spumps enable me to store air under considerable pressure,and given this circumstance, the tank on my diving equipment cansupply breathable air for nine or ten hours."
"I've no more objections to raise," I replied. "I'll onlyask you, captain: how can you light your way at the bottomof the ocean?"
"With the Ruhmkorff device, Professor Aronnax. If the firstis carried on the back, the second is fastened to the belt.It consists of a Bunsen battery that I activate not with potassiumdichromate but with sodium. An induction coil gathers the electricitygenerated and directs it to a specially designed lantern.In this lantern one finds a glass spiral that contains onlya residue of carbon dioxide gas. When the device is operating,this gas becomes luminous and gives off a continuous whitish light.Thus provided for, I breathe and I see."
"Captain Nemo, to my every objection you give such crushing answers,I'm afraid to entertain a single doubt. However, though I have nochoice but to accept both the Rouquayrol and Ruhmkorff devices,I'd like to register some reservations about the rifle with whichyou'll equip me."
"But it isn't a rifle that uses gunpowder," the captain replied.
"Then it's an air gun?"
"Surely. How can I make gunpowder on my ship when I have no saltpeter,sulfur, or charcoal?"
"Even so," I replied, "to fire underwater in a medium that's 855 timesdenser than air, you'd have to overcome considerable resistance."
"That doesn't necessarily follow. There are certain Fulton-styleguns perfected by the Englishmen Philippe-Coles and Burley,the Frenchman Furcy, and the Italian Landi; they're equippedwith a special system of airtight fastenings and can firein underwater conditions. But I repeat: having no gunpowder,I've replaced it with air at high pressure, which is abundantlysupplied me by the Nautilus's pumps."
"But this air must be swiftly depleted."
"Well, in a pinch can't my Rouquayrol tank supply me with more? All Ihave to do is draw it from an ad hoc spigot.* Besides, Professor Aronnax,you'll see for yourself that during these underwater hunting trips,we make no great expenditure of either air or bullets."
*Latin: a spigot "just for that purpose." Ed.
"But it seems to me that in this semidarkness, amid this liquidthat's so dense in comparison to the atmosphere, a gunshot couldn'tcarry far and would prove fatal only with difficulty!"
"On the contrary, sir, with this rifle every shot is fatal;and as soon as the animal is hit, no matter how lightly, it fallsas if struck by lightning."
"Why?"
"Because this rifle doesn't shoot ordinary bullets but littleglass capsules invented by the Austrian chemist Leniebroek,and I have a considerable supply of them. These glass capsulesare covered with a strip of steel and weighted with a lead base;they're genuine little Leyden jars charged with high-voltage electricity.They go off at the slightest impact, and the animal, no matterhow strong, drops dead. I might add that these capsules are nobigger than number 4 shot, and the chamber of any ordinary riflecould hold ten of them."
"I'll quit debating," I replied, getting up from the table."And all that's left is for me to shoulder my rifle.So where you go, I'll go."
Captain Nemo led me to the Nautilus's stern, and passingby Ned and Conseil's cabin, I summoned my two companions,who instantly followed us.
Then we arrived at a cell located within easy access of the engine room;in this cell we were to get dressed for our stroll.
CHAPTER 16
Strolling the Plains
THIS CELL, properly speaking, was the Nautilus's arsenal and wardrobe.Hanging from its walls, a dozen diving outfits were waiting foranybody who wanted to take a stroll.
After seeing these, Ned Land exhibited an obvious distaste for the ideaof putting one on.
"But my gallant Ned," I told him, "the forests of Crespo Islandare simply underwater forests!"
"Oh great!" put in the disappointed harpooner, watching his dreamsof fresh meat fade away. "And you, Professor Aronnax, are yougoing to stick yourself inside these clothes?"
"It has to be, Mr. Ned."
"Have it your way, sir," the harpooner replied, shrugging his shoulders."But speaking for myself, I'll never get into those things unlessthey force me!"
"No one wi
ll force you, Mr. Land," Captain Nemo said.
"And is Conseil going to risk it?" Ned asked.
"Where master goes, I go," Conseil replied.
At the captain's summons, two crewmen came to help us puton these heavy, waterproof clothes, made from seamless indiarubber and expressly designed to bear considerable pressures.They were like suits of armor that were both yielding and resistant,you might say. These clothes consisted of jacket and pants.The pants ended in bulky footwear adorned with heavy lead soles.The fabric of the jacket was reinforced with copper mail that shieldedthe chest, protected it from the water's pressure, and allowedthe lungs to function freely; the sleeves ended in supple glovesthat didn't impede hand movements.
These perfected diving suits, it was easy to see, were a far cry fromsuch misshapen costumes as the cork breastplates, leather jumpers,seagoing tunics, barrel helmets, etc., invented and acclaimedin the 18th century.
Conseil and I were soon dressed in these diving suits, as wereCaptain Nemo and one of his companions--a herculean type who musthave been prodigiously strong. All that remained was to encase one'shead in its metal sphere. But before proceeding with this operation,I asked the captain for permission to examine the rifles setaside for us.
One of the Nautilus's men presented me with a streamlined riflewhose butt was boilerplate steel, hollow inside, and of fairlylarge dimensions. This served as a tank for the compressed air,which a trigger-operated valve could release into the metal chamber.In a groove where the butt was heaviest, a cartridge clipheld some twenty electric bullets that, by means of a spring,automatically took their places in the barrel of the rifle.As soon as one shot had been fired, another was ready to go off.