The Indian Ocean

We now come to the second part of our journey under the sea. The first ended with the moving scene in the coral cemetery which left such a deep impression on my mind. Thus, in the midst of this great sea, Captain Nemo’s life was passing, even to his grave, which he had prepared in one of its deepest abysses. There, not one of the ocean’s monsters could trouble the last sleep of the crew of the Nautilus, of those friends riveted to each other in death as in life. “Nor any man, either,” had added the Captain. Still the same fierce, implacable defiance towards human society!

We now come to the second part of our journey under the sea. The first ended with the moving scene in the coral cemetery. It left a deep impression on me. Captain Nemo’s life was passing in the midst of this vast sea. He had even prepared his grave in one of its deepest abysses. There, none of the ocean’s monsters could disturb the final sleep of the Nautilus crew. These friends were bound together in death as they had been in life. “Nor any man, either,” the Captain had added. There was still the same fierce, unyielding defiance of human society!

I could no longer content myself with the theory which satisfied Conseil.

I could no longer be satisfied with the theory that satisfied Conseil.

That worthy fellow persisted in seeing in the Commander of the Nautilus one of those unknown savants who return mankind contempt for indifference. For him, he was a misunderstood genius who, tired of earth’s deceptions, had taken refuge in this inaccessible medium, where he might follow his instincts freely. To my mind, this explains but one side of Captain Nemo’s character. Indeed, the mystery of that last night during which we had been chained in prison, the sleep, and the precaution so violently taken by the Captain of snatching from my eyes the glass I had raised to sweep the horizon, the mortal wound of the man, due to an unaccountable shock of the Nautilus, all put me on a new track. No; Captain Nemo was not satisfied with shunning man. His formidable apparatus not only suited his instinct of freedom, but perhaps also the design of some terrible retaliation.

That good fellow continued to see the Commander of the Nautilus as one of those unknown savants who respond to mankind’s indifference with contempt. To him, Captain Nemo was a misunderstood genius, tired of the deceptions of life on land. He had taken refuge in this inaccessible environment, where he could follow his instincts freely. In my view, that explained only one side of Captain Nemo’s character. Other things had set me on a new track: the mystery of that last night, when we had been chained in prison, and the sleep. There was also the violent way the Captain had snatched the glass from my eyes as I raised it to scan the horizon. Then there was the man’s fatal wound, caused by an unexplained shock to the Nautilus. No, Captain Nemo was not content merely to shun mankind. His formidable equipment not only suited his desire for freedom, but perhaps also served some plan for terrible retaliation.

At this moment nothing is clear to me; I catch but a glimpse of light amidst all the darkness, and I must confine myself to writing as events shall dictate.

Right now, nothing is clear to me. I see only a glimpse of light amid all the darkness. I can only write as events unfold.

That day, the 24th of January, 1868, at noon, the second officer came to take the altitude of the sun. I mounted the platform, lit a cigar, and watched the operation. It seemed to me that the man did not understand French; for several times I made remarks in a loud voice, which must have drawn from him some involuntary sign of attention, if he had understood them; but he remained undisturbed and dumb.

At noon that day, January 24, 1868, the second officer came to measure the sun’s altitude. I went up onto the platform, lit a cigar, and watched him. He seemed not to understand French. Several times, I spoke loudly enough that he must have shown some involuntary sign of attention if he had understood me. But he remained unperturbed and said nothing.

As he was taking observations with the sextant, one of the sailors of the Nautilus (the strong man who had accompanied us on our first submarine excursion to the Island of Crespo) came to clean the glasses of the lantern. I examined the fittings of the apparatus, the strength of which was increased a hundredfold by lenticular rings, placed similar to those in a lighthouse, and which projected their brilliance in a horizontal plane. The electric lamp was combined in such a way as to give its most powerful light. Indeed, it was produced in vacuo, which insured both its steadiness and its intensity. This vacuum economised the graphite points between which the luminous arc was developed—an important point of economy for Captain Nemo, who could not easily have replaced them; and under these conditions their waste was imperceptible. When the Nautilus was ready to continue its submarine journey, I went down to the saloon. The panel was closed, and the course marked direct west.

As he took observations with the sextant, one of the Nautilus sailors came to clean the lantern’s glass. He was the strong man who had joined us on our first underwater excursion to the Island of Crespo. I examined the lantern’s fittings. Lens rings, arranged like those in a lighthouse, increased its strength a hundredfold and projected its light horizontally. The electric lamp was arranged to give its most powerful light. Its light was produced in a vacuum, which kept it steady and intense. The vacuum also saved the graphite points between which the luminous arc was formed. This was an important saving for Captain Nemo, who could not easily replace them. Under these conditions, the points wore away so slowly that the loss was imperceptible. When the Nautilus was ready to continue its underwater journey, I went down to the saloon. The panel was closed, and the course was set due west.

We were furrowing the waters of the Indian Ocean, a vast liquid plain, with a surface of 1,200,000,000 of acres, and whose waters are so clear and transparent that any one leaning over them would turn giddy. The Nautilus usually floated between fifty and a hundred fathoms deep. We went on so for some days. To any one but myself, who had a great love for the sea, the hours would have seemed long and monotonous; but the daily walks on the platform, when I steeped myself in the reviving air of the ocean, the sight of the rich waters through the windows of the saloon, the books in the library, the compiling of my memoirs, took up all my time, and left me not a moment of ennui or weariness.

We were crossing the Indian Ocean, a vast expanse of water covering 1,200,000,000 acres. Its waters were so clear and transparent that anyone leaning over them would feel dizzy. The Nautilus usually traveled between fifty and a hundred fathoms deep. We continued this way for several days. The hours would have seemed long and monotonous to anyone who did not share my great love of the sea. But I had plenty to occupy my time. I took daily walks on the platform, soaking up the refreshing ocean air. I watched the rich waters through the saloon windows, read books from the library, and worked on my memoirs. These activities left me no time for boredom or weariness.

For some days we saw a great number of aquatic birds, sea-mews or gulls. Some were cleverly killed and, prepared in a certain way, made very acceptable water-game. Amongst large-winged birds, carried a long distance from all lands and resting upon the waves from the fatigue of their flight, I saw some magnificent albatrosses, uttering discordant cries like the braying of an ass, and birds belonging to the family of the long-wings.

For several days, we saw many waterbirds, including sea-mews, or gulls. Some were skillfully killed and, prepared a certain way, made quite good game. I saw some magnificent albatrosses among the large-winged birds. They had been carried far from land and rested on the waves, tired from their flight. Their harsh cries sounded like the braying of a donkey. I also saw birds belonging to the long-winged family.

As to the fish, they always provoked our admiration when we surprised the secrets of their aquatic life through the open panels. I saw many kinds which I never before had a chance of observing.

The fish always amazed us as we glimpsed the secrets of their underwater lives through the open panels. I saw many kinds I had never had a chance to observe before.

I shall notice chiefly ostracions peculiar to the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean, and that part which washes the coast of tropical America. These fishes, like the tortoise, the armadillo, the sea-hedgehog, and the Crustacea, are protected by a breastplate which is neither chalky nor stony, but real bone. In some it takes the form of a solid triangle, in others of a solid quadrangle. Amongst the triangular I saw some an inch and a half in length, with wholesome flesh and a delicious flavour; they are brown at the tail, and yellow at the fins, and I recommend their introduction into fresh water, to which a certain number of sea-fish easily accustom themselves. I would also mention quadrangular ostracions, having on the back four large tubercles; some dotted over with white spots on the lower part of the body, and which may be tamed like birds; trigons provided with spikes formed by the lengthening of their bony shell, and which, from their strange gruntings, are called “seapigs”; also dromedaries with large humps in the shape of a cone, whose flesh is very tough and leathery.

I will focus mainly on ostracions found in the Red Sea, the Indian Ocean, and the waters off tropical America. Like tortoises, armadillos, sea urchins, and crustaceans, these fish are protected by a shell. It is made not of chalk or stone, but of real bone. In some fish, the shell forms a solid triangle. In others, it forms a solid quadrangle. Among the triangular ones, I saw some an inch and a half long, with wholesome, delicious flesh. Their tails are brown and their fins yellow. I recommend introducing them into fresh water, which some sea fish adapt to easily. I would also mention quadrangular ostracions with four large bumps on their backs. Some have white spots on their lower bodies and can be tamed like birds. There are also trigons with spikes formed by extensions of their bony shells. They are called “seapigs” because of their strange grunts. Finally, there are dromedaries with large, cone-shaped humps, whose flesh is very tough and leathery.

I now borrow from the daily notes of Master Conseil. “Certain fish of the genus petrodon peculiar to those seas, with red backs and white chests, which are distinguished by three rows of longitudinal filaments; and some electrical, seven inches long, decked in the liveliest colours. Then, as specimens of other kinds, some ovoides, resembling an egg of a dark brown colour, marked with white bands, and without tails; diodons, real sea-porcupines, furnished with spikes, and capable of swelling in such a way as to look like cushions bristling with darts; hippocampi, common to every ocean; some pegasi with lengthened snouts, which their pectoral fins, being much elongated and formed in the shape of wings, allow, if not to fly, at least to shoot into the air; pigeon spatulae, with tails covered with many rings of shell; macrognathi with long jaws, an excellent fish, nine inches long, and bright with most agreeable colours; pale-coloured calliomores, with rugged heads; and plenty of chaetodons, with long and tubular muzzles, which kill insects by shooting them, as from an air-gun, with a single drop of water. These we may call the flycatchers of the seas.

I now turn to Master Conseil’s daily notes. “Some fish of the genus petrodon, found only in those seas, have red backs and white chests. They are distinguished by three rows of filaments running lengthwise. There are also some electric fish, seven inches long and dressed in the brightest colors. Other kinds include some ovoides, shaped like dark brown eggs, with white bands and no tails. There are diodons, true sea porcupines covered in spikes. They can swell up until they look like cushions bristling with darts. There are hippocampi, common to every ocean, and some pegasi with long snouts. The pegasi have very long, wing-shaped pectoral fins. These allow them, if not to fly, at least to shoot into the air. There are pigeon spatulae, with tails covered in many rings of shell. There are also macrognathi, excellent fish with long jaws. They are nine inches long and brightly colored in the most pleasing shades. There are pale calliomores with rough heads, and plenty of chaetodons with long, tubular snouts. The chaetodons kill insects by shooting them with a single drop of water, as if from an air gun. We may call them the flycatchers of the seas.

“In the eighty-ninth genus of fishes, classed by Lacepede, belonging to the second lower class of bony, characterised by opercules and bronchial membranes, I remarked the scorpaena, the head of which is furnished with spikes, and which has but one dorsal fin; these creatures are covered, or not, with little shells, according to the sub-class to which they belong. The second sub-class gives us specimens of didactyles fourteen or fifteen inches in length, with yellow rays, and heads of a most fantastic appearance. As to the first sub-class, it gives several specimens of that singular looking fish appropriately called a ‘seafrog,’ with large head, sometimes pierced with holes, sometimes swollen with protuberances, bristling with spikes, and covered with tubercles; it has irregular and hideous horns; its body and tail are covered with callosities; its sting makes a dangerous wound; it is both repugnant and horrible to look at.”

“In the eighty-ninth genus of fish classified by Lacepede, I noticed the scorpaena. This genus belongs to the second lower class of bony fish, distinguished by gill covers and gill membranes. The scorpaena has spikes on its head and only one dorsal fin. These creatures may or may not be covered with small shells, depending on their subclass. The second subclass includes didactyles fourteen or fifteen inches long, with yellow rays and very strange-looking heads. The first subclass includes several specimens of the peculiar fish aptly called a ‘seafrog.’ Its large head is sometimes pierced with holes and sometimes swollen with lumps. It bristles with spikes and is covered with bumps. It has irregular, hideous horns, and its body and tail are covered with hard growths. Its sting causes a dangerous wound. It is both repulsive and horrible to look at.”

From the 21st to the 23rd of January the Nautilus went at the rate of two hundred and fifty leagues in twenty-four hours, being five hundred and forty miles, or twenty-two miles an hour. If we recognised so many different varieties of fish, it was because, attracted by the electric light, they tried to follow us; the greater part, however, were soon distanced by our speed, though some kept their place in the waters of the Nautilus for a time. The morning of the 24th, in 12° 5′ S. lat., and 94° 33′ long., we observed Keeling Island, a coral formation, planted with magnificent cocos, and which had been visited by Mr. Darwin and Captain Fitzroy. The Nautilus skirted the shores of this desert island for a little distance. Its nets brought up numerous specimens of polypi and curious shells of mollusca. Some precious productions of the species of delphinulae enriched the treasures of Captain Nemo, to which I added an astraea punctifera, a kind of parasite polypus often found fixed to a shell.

From January 21 to 23, the Nautilus traveled 250 leagues every 24 hours. That was 540 miles a day, or 22 miles an hour. We recognized so many kinds of fish because the electric light attracted them, and they tried to follow us. Most, however, soon fell behind because of our speed. Some stayed in the waters around the Nautilus for a time. On the morning of January 24, at 12° 5′ S. latitude and 94° 33′ longitude, we saw Keeling Island. It was a coral formation covered with magnificent coconut palms. Mr. Darwin and Captain Fitzroy had visited it. The Nautilus traveled along the shores of this deserted island for a short distance. Its nets brought up numerous specimens of polyps and curious mollusk shells. Some valuable delphinula specimens added to Captain Nemo's treasures. I also added an astraea punctifera, a kind of parasitic polyp often found attached to a shell.

Soon Keeling Island disappeared from the horizon, and our course was directed to the north-west in the direction of the Indian Peninsula.

Soon Keeling Island disappeared from the horizon, and we headed northwest toward the Indian Peninsula.

From Keeling Island our course was slower and more variable, often taking us into great depths. Several times they made use of the inclined planes, which certain internal levers placed obliquely to the waterline. In that way we went about two miles, but without ever obtaining the greatest depths of the Indian Sea, which soundings of seven thousand fathoms have never reached. As to the temperature of the lower strata, the thermometer invariably indicated 4° above zero. I only observed that in the upper regions the water was always colder in the high levels than at the surface of the sea.

From Keeling Island, we traveled more slowly and changed course more often, frequently descending to great depths. Several times, they used the inclined planes, which internal levers tilted at an angle to the waterline. In this way, we descended about two miles, but never reached the greatest depths of the Indian Sea. Soundings of seven thousand fathoms have never reached those depths. In the lower layers, the thermometer always showed 4° above zero. I only noticed that, in the upper layers, the water was always colder below the surface than at the surface.

On the 25th of January the ocean was entirely deserted; the Nautilus passed the day on the surface, beating the waves with its powerful screw and making them rebound to a great height. Who under such circumstances would not have taken it for a gigantic cetacean? Three parts of this day I spent on the platform. I watched the sea. Nothing on the horizon, till about four o’clock a steamer running west on our counter. Her masts were visible for an instant, but she could not see the Nautilus, being too low in the water. I fancied this steamboat belonged to the P. O. Company, which runs from Ceylon to Sydney, touching at King George’s Point and Melbourne.

On January 25, the ocean was completely deserted. The Nautilus spent the day on the surface, its powerful propeller churning the waves and throwing them high into the air. Under those circumstances, who would not have mistaken it for a gigantic whale? I spent three quarters of the day on the platform, watching the sea. There was nothing on the horizon until about four o’clock, when a steamer appeared, heading west toward us. Its masts were visible for a moment, but it could not see the Nautilus, which sat too low in the water. I thought the steamer belonged to the P. O. Company, whose ships traveled from Ceylon to Sydney, stopping at King George’s Point and Melbourne.

At five o’clock in the evening, before that fleeting twilight which binds night to day in tropical zones, Conseil and I were astonished by a curious spectacle.

At five in the evening, before the brief twilight that joins day and night in the tropics, Conseil and I were amazed by a strange sight.

It was a shoal of argonauts travelling along on the surface of the ocean. We could count several hundreds. They belonged to the tubercle kind which are peculiar to the Indian seas.

It was a group of argonauts moving across the ocean’s surface. We could count several hundred. They were the tubercle kind, found only in the Indian seas.

These graceful molluscs moved backwards by means of their locomotive tube, through which they propelled the water already drawn in. Of their eight tentacles, six were elongated, and stretched out floating on the water, whilst the other two, rolled up flat, were spread to the wing like a light sail. I saw their spiral-shaped and fluted shells, which Cuvier justly compares to an elegant skiff. A boat indeed! It bears the creature which secretes it without its adhering to it.

These graceful molluscs moved backward by expelling water they had drawn in through their locomotor tubes. Six of their eight tentacles were long and stretched out, floating on the water. The other two were rolled up flat and spread out like the wings of a light sail. I saw their spiral, fluted shells, which Cuvier rightly compares to an elegant skiff. A boat indeed! The shell carries the creature that secretes it, without the creature being attached to it.

For nearly an hour the Nautilus floated in the midst of this shoal of molluscs. Then I know not what sudden fright they took. But as if at a signal every sail was furled, the arms folded, the body drawn in, the shells turned over, changing their centre of gravity, and the whole fleet disappeared under the waves. Never did the ships of a squadron manœuvre with more unity.

For nearly an hour, the Nautilus floated among this shoal of molluscs. Then something suddenly frightened them, though I do not know what. But as if on signal, every sail folded, the arms folded, and the bodies drew in. The shells turned over, shifting their center of gravity, and the whole fleet disappeared beneath the waves. No squadron of ships ever maneuvered with greater unity.

At that moment night fell suddenly, and the reeds, scarcely raised by the breeze, lay peaceably under the sides of the Nautilus.

At that moment, night fell suddenly. The reeds lay peacefully alongside the Nautilus, barely stirred by the breeze.

The next day, 26th of January, we cut the equator at the eighty-second meridian and entered the northern hemisphere. During the day a formidable troop of sharks accompanied us, terrible creatures, which multiply in these seas and make them very dangerous. They were “cestracio philippi” sharks, with brown backs and whitish bellies, armed with eleven rows of teeth—eyed sharks—their throat being marked with a large black spot surrounded with white like an eye. There were also some Isabella sharks, with rounded snouts marked with dark spots. These powerful creatures often hurled themselves at the windows of the saloon with such violence as to make us feel very insecure. At such times Ned Land was no longer master of himself. He wanted to go to the surface and harpoon the monsters, particularly certain smooth-hound sharks, whose mouth is studded with teeth like a mosaic; and large tiger-sharks nearly six yards long, the last named of which seemed to excite him more particularly. But the Nautilus, accelerating her speed, easily left the most rapid of them behind.

The next day, January 26, we crossed the equator at the eighty-second meridian and entered the northern hemisphere. During the day, a formidable group of sharks accompanied us. These terrible creatures are common in these seas and make them very dangerous. They included “cestracio philippi” sharks, with brown backs, whitish bellies, and eleven rows of teeth. They were called eyed sharks because a large black spot surrounded by white marked their throats, like an eye. There were also some Isabella sharks, with rounded snouts marked by dark spots. These powerful creatures often hurled themselves against the saloon windows so violently that we felt very unsafe. At such times, Ned Land lost control of himself. He wanted to go to the surface and harpoon the monsters. He was particularly interested in certain smooth-hound sharks, whose mouths were studded with teeth like a mosaic. He also wanted to harpoon large tiger sharks, nearly six yards long, which seemed to excite him most of all. But the Nautilus increased her speed and easily left even the fastest sharks behind.

The 27th of January, at the entrance of the vast Bay of Bengal, we met repeatedly a forbidding spectacle, dead bodies floating on the surface of the water. They were the dead of the Indian villages, carried by the Ganges to the level of the sea, and which the vultures, the only undertakers of the country, had not been able to devour. But the sharks did not fail to help them at their funeral work.

On January 27, at the entrance to the vast Bay of Bengal, we repeatedly saw a grim sight: dead bodies floating on the water. They were the dead from Indian villages, carried down the Ganges to the sea. The vultures, the country’s only undertakers, had not managed to devour them. But the sharks did not fail to help the vultures with their funeral work.

About seven o’clock in the evening, the Nautilus, half-immersed, was sailing in a sea of milk. At first sight the ocean seemed lactified. Was it the effect of the lunar rays? No; for the moon, scarcely two days old, was still lying hidden under the horizon in the rays of the sun. The whole sky, though lit by the sidereal rays, seemed black by contrast with the whiteness of the waters.

Around seven that evening, the Nautilus was sailing half submerged through a sea of milk. At first glance, the ocean seemed to have turned milky. Was this an effect of the moonlight? No. The moon was barely two days old and still hidden below the horizon in the sun’s rays. The whole sky, though lit by the stars, seemed black against the white water.

Conseil could not believe his eyes, and questioned me as to the cause of this strange phenomenon. Happily I was able to answer him.

Conseil could not believe his eyes. He asked me what caused this strange phenomenon. Fortunately, I was able to answer him.

“It is called a milk sea,” I explained. “A large extent of white wavelets often to be seen on the coasts of Amboyna, and in these parts of the sea.”

“It is called a milk sea,” I explained. “It is a vast stretch of small white waves often seen along the coasts of Amboyna and in these waters.”

“But, sir,” said Conseil, “can you tell me what causes such an effect? for I suppose the water is not really turned into milk.”

“But, sir,” said Conseil, “can you tell me what causes this effect? I assume the water doesn't really turn into milk.”

“No, my boy; and the whiteness which surprises you is caused only by the presence of myriads of infusoria, a sort of luminous little worm, gelatinous and without colour, of the thickness of a hair, and whose length is not more than seven-thousandths of an inch. These insects adhere to one another sometimes for several leagues.”

“No, my boy. The whiteness that surprises you is caused only by countless infusoria. They are a kind of tiny, luminous worm, jellylike and colorless. They are as thick as a hair and no more than seven-thousandths of an inch long. These creatures sometimes stick together for several leagues.”

“Several leagues!” exclaimed Conseil.

“Several leagues!” said Conseil.

“Yes, my boy; and you need not try to compute the number of these infusoria. You will not be able, for, if I am not mistaken, ships have floated on these milk seas for more than forty miles.”

“Yes, my boy. There is no point trying to count these infusoria. You won't be able to. If I remember correctly, ships have sailed through these milk seas for more than forty miles.”

Towards midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual colour; but behind us, even to the limits of the horizon, the sky reflected the whitened waves, and for a long time seemed impregnated with the vague glimmerings of an aurora borealis.

Around midnight, the sea suddenly returned to its usual color. But behind us, the sky reflected the white waves all the way to the horizon. For a long time, the sky seemed filled with the faint glow of the northern lights.