All by Electricity

“Sir,” said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments hanging on the walls of his room, “here are the contrivances required for the navigation of the Nautilus. Here, as in the drawing-room, I have them always under my eyes, and they indicate my position and exact direction in the middle of the ocean. Some are known to you, such as the thermometer, which gives the internal temperature of the Nautilus; the barometer, which indicates the weight of the air and foretells the changes of the weather; the hygrometer, which marks the dryness of the atmosphere; the storm-glass, the contents of which, by decomposing, announce the approach of tempests; the compass, which guides my course; the sextant, which shows the latitude by the altitude of the sun; chronometers, by which I calculate the longitude; and glasses for day and night, which I use to examine the points of the horizon, when the Nautilus rises to the surface of the waves.”

“Sir,” said Captain Nemo, pointing to the instruments hanging on the walls of his room, “these are the instruments needed to navigate the Nautilus. Here, as in the drawing room, I can always see them. They show my position and exact direction in the middle of the ocean. Some are familiar to you. The thermometer shows the temperature inside the Nautilus. The barometer shows air pressure and predicts changes in the weather. The hygrometer measures how dry the air is. The contents of the storm glass break down to warn of approaching storms. The compass guides my course. The sextant shows latitude using the sun’s height. I use chronometers to calculate longitude. And I use day and night glasses to examine points on the horizon when the Nautilus rises to the surface.”

“These are the usual nautical instruments,” I replied, “and I know the use of them. But these others, no doubt, answer to the particular requirements of the Nautilus. This dial with the movable needle is a manometer, is it not?”

“These are the usual nautical instruments,” I replied, “and I know how to use them. But these others must serve the particular needs of the Nautilus. This dial with the moving needle is a manometer, isn’t it?”

“It is actually a manometer. But by communication with the water, whose external pressure it indicates, it gives our depth at the same time.”

“It is actually a pressure gauge. But because it is connected to the water, it shows the outside pressure and our depth.”

“And these other instruments, the use of which I cannot guess?”

“And what about these other instruments? I can’t guess what they’re used for.”

“Here, Professor, I ought to give you some explanations. Will you be kind enough to listen to me?”

“Professor, I should explain a few things. Would you please listen to me?”

He was silent for a few moments, then he said—

He was silent for a few moments, then he said:

“There is a powerful agent, obedient, rapid, easy, which conforms to every use, and reigns supreme on board my vessel. Everything is done by means of it. It lights it, warms it, and is the soul of my mechanical apparatus. This agent is electricity.”

“There is a powerful force that is obedient, fast, and easy to use. It can be put to any use, and it reigns supreme aboard my vessel. Everything is done with it. It lights and warms the vessel, and it is the soul of my machinery. This force is electricity.”

“Electricity?” I cried in surprise.

“Electricity?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nevertheless, Captain, you possess an extreme rapidity of movement, which does not agree with the power of electricity. Until now, its dynamic force has remained under restraint, and has only been able to produce a small amount of power.”

“Nevertheless, Captain, you can move at a tremendous speed, which does not seem possible with electricity. Until now, its driving force has been limited and has produced only a small amount of power.”

“Professor,” said Captain Nemo, “my electricity is not everybody’s. You know what sea-water is composed of. In a thousand grammes are found 96½ per cent. of water, and about 2-2/3 per cent. of chloride of sodium; then, in a smaller quantity, chlorides of magnesium and of potassium, bromide of magnesium, sulphate of magnesia, sulphate and carbonate of lime. You see, then, that chloride of sodium forms a large part of it. So it is this sodium that I extract from sea-water, and of which I compose my ingredients. I owe all to the ocean; it produces electricity, and electricity gives heat, light, motion, and, in a word, life to the Nautilus.”

“Professor,” said Captain Nemo, “my electricity is not like everyone else’s. You know what seawater is made of. Of every thousand grams, 96½ percent is water and about 2⅔ percent is sodium chloride. There are also smaller amounts of magnesium chloride, potassium chloride, magnesium bromide, magnesium sulfate, calcium sulfate, and calcium carbonate. You can see that sodium chloride makes up a large part of seawater. So I extract the sodium from seawater and use it to make my ingredients. I owe everything to the ocean. It produces electricity, and electricity gives heat, light, motion, and, in a word, life to the Nautilus.”

“But not the air you breathe?”

“But not the air you breathe?”

“Oh! I could manufacture the air necessary for my consumption, but it is useless, because I go up to the surface of the water when I please. However, if electricity does not furnish me with air to breathe, it works at least the powerful pumps that are stored in spacious reservoirs, and which enable me to prolong at need, and as long as I will, my stay in the depths of the sea. It gives a uniform and unintermittent light, which the sun does not. Now look at this clock; it is electrical, and goes with a regularity that defies the best chronometers. I have divided it into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, because for me there is neither night nor day, sun nor moon, but only that factitious light that I take with me to the bottom of the sea. Look! just now, it is ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh! I could produce the air I need to breathe, but there is no need. I can rise to the surface whenever I please. Still, although electricity does not provide my breathing air, it powers the powerful pumps stored in spacious reservoirs. These pumps allow me to stay in the depths of the sea as long as I wish, whenever necessary. Electricity gives me a steady, uninterrupted light, unlike the sun. Now look at this clock. It is electric, and its accuracy surpasses that of the best chronometers. I have divided it into twenty-four hours, like Italian clocks. For me there is no night or day, no sun or moon, only the artificial light I take with me to the bottom of the sea. Look! It is ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly.”

“Another application of electricity. This dial hanging in front of us indicates the speed of the Nautilus. An electric thread puts it in communication with the screw, and the needle indicates the real speed. Look! now we are spinning along with a uniform speed of fifteen miles an hour.”

“Here is another use of electricity. This dial in front of us shows the speed of the Nautilus. An electric wire connects it to the propeller, and the needle shows our actual speed. Look! We are now moving at a steady fifteen miles an hour.”

“It is marvelous! And I see, Captain, you were right to make use of this agent that takes the place of wind, water, and steam.”

“It’s amazing! And I see, Captain, that you were right to use this power instead of wind, water, or steam.”

“We have not finished, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo, rising. “If you will follow me, we will examine the stern of the Nautilus.”

“We’re not finished, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo, standing up. “If you follow me, we’ll examine the stern of the Nautilus.”

Really, I knew already the anterior part of this submarine boat, of which this is the exact division, starting from the ship’s head:—the dining-room, five yards long, separated from the library by a water-tight partition; the library, five yards long; the large drawing-room, ten yards long, separated from the Captain’s room by a second water-tight partition; the said room, five yards in length; mine, two and a half yards; and, lastly a reservoir of air, seven and a half yards, that extended to the bows. Total length thirty-five yards, or one hundred and five feet. The partitions had doors that were shut hermetically by means of india-rubber instruments, and they ensured the safety of the Nautilus in case of a leak.

I already knew the front part of the submarine. Starting from the ship’s head, its layout was as follows: The dining room was five yards long and separated from the library by a watertight partition. The library was five yards long. The large drawing room was ten yards long and separated from the captain’s room by a second watertight partition. The captain’s room was five yards long, and mine was two and a half. Finally, an air reservoir extended seven and a half yards to the bows. The total length was thirty-five yards, or one hundred and five feet. The partitions had doors that were sealed airtight with rubber fittings. They kept the Nautilus safe in case of a leak.

I followed Captain Nemo through the waist, and arrived at the centre of the boat. There was a sort of well that opened between two partitions. An iron ladder, fastened with an iron hook to the partition, led to the upper end. I asked the Captain what the ladder was used for.

I followed Captain Nemo through the middle of the boat. We came to a sort of shaft between two partitions. An iron ladder led to the top, fastened to the partition with an iron hook. I asked the Captain what the ladder was used for.

“It leads to the small boat,” he said.

“It leads to the small boat,” he said.

“What! have you a boat?” I exclaimed, in surprise.

“What! You have a boat?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“Of course; an excellent vessel, light and insubmersible, that serves either as a fishing or as a pleasure boat.”

“Of course. It’s an excellent boat, light and impossible to sink, suitable for fishing or pleasure.”

“But then, when you wish to embark, you are obliged to come to the surface of the water?”

“But when you want to get on board, do you have to come to the surface?”

“Not at all. This boat is attached to the upper part of the hull of the Nautilus, and occupies a cavity made for it. It is decked, quite water-tight, and held together by solid bolts. This ladder leads to a man-hole made in the hull of the Nautilus, that corresponds with a similar hole made in the side of the boat. By this double opening I get into the small vessel. They shut the one belonging to the Nautilus; I shut the other by means of screw pressure. I undo the bolts, and the little boat goes up to the surface of the sea with prodigious rapidity. I then open the panel of the bridge, carefully shut till then; I mast it, hoist my sail, take my oars, and I’m off.”

“Not at all. This boat sits in a recess built into the upper part of the Nautilus’s hull. It has a deck, is completely watertight, and is held in place by strong bolts. This ladder leads to a hatch in the Nautilus’s hull, aligned with another hatch in the side of the boat. I enter the small vessel through these two openings. They close the Nautilus hatch, and I close the other with a screw clamp. I unfasten the bolts, and the little boat rises to the surface with tremendous speed. Then I open the deck hatch, which has been kept tightly shut until then. I put up the mast, hoist my sail, take my oars, and I’m off.”

“But how do you get back on board?”

“But how do you get back on board?”

“I do not come back, M. Aronnax; the Nautilus comes to me.”

“I don't come back, M. Aronnax. The Nautilus comes to me.”

“By your orders?”

“On your orders?”

“By my orders. An electric thread connects us. I telegraph to it, and that is enough.”

“On my orders. An electric wire connects us. I send it a telegraph message, and that’s enough.”

“Really,” I said, astonished at these marvels, “nothing can be more simple.”

“Really,” I said, amazed by these wonders, “nothing could be simpler.”

After having passed by the cage of the staircase that led to the platform, I saw a cabin six feet long, in which Conseil and Ned Land, enchanted with their repast, were devouring it with avidity. Then a door opened into a kitchen nine feet long, situated between the large storerooms. There electricity, better than gas itself, did all the cooking. The streams under the furnaces gave out to the sponges of platina a heat which was regularly kept up and distributed. They also heated a distilling apparatus, which, by evaporation, furnished excellent drinkable water. Near this kitchen was a bathroom comfortably furnished, with hot and cold water taps.

After passing the stairwell leading to the platform, I saw a cabin six feet long. Inside, Conseil and Ned Land were delighted with their meal and eating it eagerly. Beyond a door was a kitchen nine feet long, located between the large storerooms. There, electricity did all the cooking, working even better than gas. Electric currents beneath the stoves heated platinum sponges, providing steady, evenly distributed heat. The currents also heated a distilling apparatus, which produced excellent drinking water through evaporation. Near the kitchen was a comfortably furnished bathroom with hot and cold water taps.

Next to the kitchen was the berthroom of the vessel, sixteen feet long. But the door was shut, and I could not see the management of it, which might have given me an idea of the number of men employed on board the Nautilus.

Next to the kitchen was the ship's sleeping quarters, sixteen feet long. But the door was shut, so I could not see how the room was arranged. That might have given me an idea of how many men worked aboard the Nautilus.

At the bottom was a fourth partition that separated this office from the engine-room. A door opened, and I found myself in the compartment where Captain Nemo—certainly an engineer of a very high order—had arranged his locomotive machinery. This engine-room, clearly lighted, did not measure less than sixty-five feet in length. It was divided into two parts; the first contained the materials for producing electricity, and the second the machinery that connected it with the screw. I examined it with great interest, in order to understand the machinery of the Nautilus.

At the far end, a fourth partition separated the office from the engine room. A door opened, and I entered the compartment where Captain Nemo had installed his propulsion machinery. He was certainly a highly skilled engineer. The brightly lit engine room was at least sixty-five feet long. It was divided into two parts. The first contained the materials for producing electricity. The second held the machinery that connected the electrical system to the propeller. I examined it with great interest, hoping to understand the machinery of the Nautilus.

“You see,” said the Captain, “I use Bunsen’s contrivances, not Ruhmkorff’s. Those would not have been powerful enough. Bunsen’s are fewer in number, but strong and large, which experience proves to be the best. The electricity produced passes forward, where it works, by electro-magnets of great size, on a system of levers and cog-wheels that transmit the movement to the axle of the screw. This one, the diameter of which is nineteen feet, and the thread twenty-three feet, performs about a hundred and twenty revolutions in a second.”

“You see,” said the Captain, “I use Bunsen’s devices, not Ruhmkorff’s. Ruhmkorff’s would not have been powerful enough. I use fewer Bunsen devices, but they are strong and large. Experience shows that this is best. The electricity they produce passes forward, where it powers large electromagnets. These operate a system of levers and gears that transfers the motion to the propeller shaft. The propeller is nineteen feet in diameter, with a thread of twenty-three feet. It makes about a hundred and twenty revolutions per second.”

“And you get then?”

“And what do you get then?”

“A speed of fifty miles an hour.”

“Fifty miles an hour.”

“I have seen the Nautilus manœuvre before the Abraham Lincoln, and I have my own ideas as to its speed. But this is not enough. We must see where we go. We must be able to direct it to the right, to the left, above, below. How do you get to the great depths, where you find an increasing resistance, which is rated by hundreds of atmospheres? How do you return to the surface of the ocean? And how do you maintain yourselves in the requisite medium? Am I asking too much?”

“I have seen the Nautilus maneuver in front of the Abraham Lincoln, and I have my own ideas about its speed. But that is not enough. We need to see where we are going. We must be able to steer it right, left, up, and down. How do you reach great depths, where the increasing resistance amounts to hundreds of atmospheres? How do you return to the ocean’s surface? And how do you remain at the desired depth? Am I asking too much?”

“Not at all, Professor,” replied the Captain, with some hesitation; “since you may never leave this submarine boat. Come into the saloon, it is our usual study, and there you will learn all you want to know about the Nautilus.”

“Not at all, Professor,” the Captain replied, hesitating slightly. “Because you may never leave this submarine. Come into the saloon. We usually use it as a study, and there you will learn all you want to know about the Nautilus.”