Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas Part 44

The results so obtained can't be adequately double-checked. By contrast, Captain Nemo would seek the sea's temperature by going himself into its depths, and when he placed his thermometer in contact with the various layers of liquid, he found the sought-for degree immediately and with certainty.

And so, by loading up its ballast tanks, or by sinking obliquely with its slanting fins, the Nautilus successively reached depths of 3,000, 4,000, 5,000, 7,000, 9,000, and 10,000 meters, and the ultimate conclusion from these experiments was that, in all lat.i.tudes, the sea had a permanent temperature of 4.5 degrees centigrade at a depth of 1,000 meters.

I watched these experiments with the most intense fascination.

Captain Nemo brought a real pa.s.sion to them. I often wondered why he took these observations. Were they for the benefit of his fellow man? 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.

Be that as it may, 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. From this news I derived some personal enlightenment having nothing to do with science.

It happened the morning of January 15. The captain, with whom I was strolling on the platform, asked me if I knew how salt water differs in density from sea to sea. I said no, adding that there was a lack of rigorous scientific observations on this subject.

"I've taken such observations," he told me, "and I can vouch for their reliability."

"Fine," I replied, "but the Nautilus lives in a separate world, and the secrets of its scientists don't make their way ash.o.r.e."

"You're right, professor," he told me after a few moments of silence.

"This is a separate world. It's as alien to the earth as the planets accompanying our globe around the sun, and we'll never become familiar with the work of scientists on Saturn or Jupiter. But since fate has linked our two lives, I can reveal the results of my observations to you."

"I'm all attention, captain."

"You're aware, professor, that salt water is denser than fresh water, but this density isn't uniform. In essence, if I represent the density of fresh water by 1.000, then I find 1.028 for the waters of the Atlantic, 1.026 for the waters of the Pacific, 1.030 for the waters of the Mediterranean--"

Aha, I thought, so he ventures into the Mediterranean?

"--1.018 for the waters of the Ionian Sea, and 1.029 for the waters of the Adriatic."

a.s.suredly, the Nautilus didn't avoid the heavily traveled seas of Europe, and from this insight I concluded that the s.h.i.+p would take us back--perhaps very soon--to more civilized sh.o.r.es.

I expected Ned Land to greet this news with unfeigned satisfaction.

For several days our work hours were spent in all sorts of experiments, on the degree of salinity in waters of different depths, or on their electric properties, coloration, and transparency, and in every instance Captain Nemo displayed an ingenuity equaled only by his graciousness toward me. Then I saw no more of him for some days and again lived on board in seclusion.

On January 16 the Nautilus seemed to have fallen asleep just a few meters beneath the surface of the water. Its electric equipment had been turned off, and the motionless propeller let it ride with the waves.

I a.s.sumed that the crew were busy with interior repairs, required by the engine's strenuous mechanical action.

My companions and I then witnessed an unusual sight.

The panels in the lounge were open, and since the Nautilus's beacon was off, a hazy darkness reigned in the midst of the waters.

Covered with heavy clouds, the stormy sky gave only the faintest light to the ocean's upper strata.

I was observing the state of the sea under these conditions, and even the largest fish were nothing more than ill-defined shadows, when the Nautilus was suddenly transferred into broad daylight.

At first I thought the beacon had gone back on and was casting its electric light into the liquid ma.s.s. I was mistaken, and after a hasty examination I discovered my error.

The Nautilus had drifted into the midst of some phosph.o.r.escent strata, which, in this darkness, came off as positively dazzling.

This effect was caused by myriads of tiny, luminous animals whose brightness increased when they glided over the metal hull of our submersible. In the midst of these luminous sheets of water, I then glimpsed flashes of light, like those seen inside a blazing furnace from streams of molten lead or from ma.s.ses of metal brought to a white heat--flashes so intense that certain areas of the light became shadows by comparison, in a fiery setting from which every shadow should seemingly have been banished.

No, this was no longer the calm emission of our usual lighting!

This light throbbed with unprecedented vigor and activity!

You sensed that it was alive!

In essence, it was a cl.u.s.ter of countless open-sea infusoria, of noctiluca an eighth of an inch wide, actual globules of transparent jelly equipped with a threadlike tentacle, up to 25,000 of which have been counted in thirty cubic centimeters of water.

And the power of their light was increased by those glimmers unique to medusas, starfish, common jellyfish, angel-wing clams, and other phosph.o.r.escent zoophytes, which were saturated with grease from organic matter decomposed by the sea, and perhaps with mucus secreted by fish.

For several hours the Nautilus drifted in this brilliant tide, and our wonderment grew when we saw huge marine animals cavorting in it, like the fire-dwelling salamanders of myth.

In the midst of these flames that didn't burn, I could see swift, elegant porpoises, the tireless pranksters of the seas, and sailfish three meters long, those shrewd heralds of hurricanes, whose fearsome broadswords sometimes banged against the lounge window.

Then smaller fish appeared: miscellaneous triggerfish, leather jacks, unicornfish, and a hundred others that left stripes on this luminous atmosphere in their course.

Some magic lay behind this dazzling sight! Perhaps some atmospheric condition had intensified this phenomenon?

Perhaps a storm had been unleashed on the surface of the waves?

But only a few meters down, the Nautilus felt no tempest's fury, and the s.h.i.+p rocked peacefully in the midst of the calm waters.

And so it went, some new wonder constantly delighting us.

Conseil observed and cla.s.sified his zoophytes, articulates, mollusks, and fish. The days pa.s.sed quickly, and I no longer kept track of them.

Ned, as usual, kept looking for changes of pace from our standard fare.

Like actual snails, we were at home in our sh.e.l.l, and I can vouch that it's easy to turn into a full-fledged snail.

So this way of living began to seem simple and natural to us, and we no longer envisioned a different lifestyle on the surface of the planet earth, when something happened to remind us of our strange circ.u.mstances.

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

The wind was blowing a strong gust from the east. The barometer, which had been falling for some days, forecast an approaching struggle of the elements.

I had climbed onto the platform just as the chief officer was taking his readings of hour angles. Out of habit I waited for him to p.r.o.nounce 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 spygla.s.s, and inspect the horizon.

For some minutes the captain stood motionless, rooted to the spot contained within the field of his lens. Then he lowered his spygla.s.s and exchanged about ten words with his chief officer.

The latter seemed to be in the grip of an excitement he tried in vain to control. More in command of himself, Captain Nemo remained cool.

Furthermore, he seemed to be raising certain objections that his chief officer kept answering with flat a.s.surances. At least that's what I gathered from their differences in tone and gesture.

As for me, I stared industriously in the direction under observation but without spotting a thing. Sky and water merged into a perfectly clean horizon line.

Meanwhile Captain Nemo 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 spygla.s.s and stubbornly examining the horizon, walking up and down, stamping his foot, in his nervous agitation a sharp contrast to his superior.

But this mystery would inevitably be cleared up, and soon, because Captain Nemo gave orders to increase speed; at once the engine stepped up its drive power, setting the propeller in swifter rotation.

Just then the chief officer drew the captain's attention anew.

The latter interrupted his strolling and aimed his spygla.s.s at the point indicated. He observed it a good while.

As for me, deeply puzzled, I went below to the lounge and brought back an excellent long-range telescope I habitually used.

Leaning my elbows on the beacon housing, which jutted from the stern of the platform, I got set to scour that whole stretch of sky and sea.

But no sooner had I peered into the eyepiece than the instrument was s.n.a.t.c.hed from my hands.

I spun 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 spygla.s.s fell from his hand and rolled at his feet.

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