The Sargasso Sea

That day the Nautilus crossed a singular part of the Atlantic Ocean. No one can be ignorant of the existence of a current of warm water known by the name of the Gulf Stream. After leaving the Gulf of Florida, we went in the direction of Spitzbergen. But before entering the Gulf of Mexico, about 45° of N. lat., this current divides into two arms, the principal one going towards the coast of Ireland and Norway, whilst the second bends to the south about the height of the Azores; then, touching the African shore, and describing a lengthened oval, returns to the Antilles. This second arm—it is rather a collar than an arm—surrounds with its circles of warm water that portion of the cold, quiet, immovable ocean called the Sargasso Sea, a perfect lake in the open Atlantic: it takes no less than three years for the great current to pass round it. Such was the region the Nautilus was now visiting, a perfect meadow, a close carpet of seaweed, fucus, and tropical berries, so thick and so compact that the stem of a vessel could hardly tear its way through it. And Captain Nemo, not wishing to entangle his screw in this herbaceous mass, kept some yards beneath the surface of the waves. The name Sargasso comes from the Spanish word “sargazzo” which signifies kelp. This kelp, or berry-plant, is the principal formation of this immense bank. And this is the reason why these plants unite in the peaceful basin of the Atlantic. The only explanation which can be given, he says, seems to me to result from the experience known to all the world. Place in a vase some fragments of cork or other floating body, and give to the water in the vase a circular movement, the scattered fragments will unite in a group in the centre of the liquid surface, that is to say, in the part least agitated. In the phenomenon we are considering, the Atlantic is the vase, the Gulf Stream the circular current, and the Sargasso Sea the central point at which the floating bodies unite.

That day, the Nautilus crossed a remarkable part of the Atlantic Ocean. Everyone knows of the warm current called the Gulf Stream. After leaving the Gulf of Florida, we headed toward Spitzbergen. But before entering the Gulf of Mexico, at about 45° north latitude, the current divides into two branches. The main branch flows toward the coasts of Ireland and Norway. The second turns south near the Azores, then touches the African shore. It follows a long oval and returns to the Antilles. This second branch is more like a collar than an arm. Its circles of warm water surround a part of the ocean called the Sargasso Sea. This cold, calm, motionless region is a perfect lake in the open Atlantic. The great current takes no less than three years to flow around it. The Nautilus was now visiting this region. It was a perfect meadow, covered by a dense carpet of seaweed, fucus, and tropical berries. The carpet was so thick and compact that a ship’s bow could hardly force its way through. Captain Nemo did not want to tangle his propeller in this mass of vegetation. So he kept the vessel several yards below the surface. The name Sargasso comes from the Spanish word “sargazzo”, meaning kelp. This kelp, or berry plant, makes up most of the immense bank. Here is why these plants gather in this peaceful Atlantic basin. The only explanation that can be given, he says, seems to me to come from an experiment everyone knows. Place some pieces of cork or another floating material in a vase of water. Then make the water move in a circle. The scattered pieces will gather in a group at the center of the surface, where the water is least disturbed. In the phenomenon we are considering, the Atlantic is the vase and the Gulf Stream is the circular current. The Sargasso Sea is the central point where the floating material gathers.

I share Maury’s opinion, and I was able to study the phenomenon in the very midst, where vessels rarely penetrate. Above us floated products of all kinds, heaped up among these brownish plants; trunks of trees torn from the Andes or the Rocky Mountains, and floated by the Amazon or the Mississippi; numerous wrecks, remains of keels, or ships’ bottoms, side-planks stove in, and so weighted with shells and barnacles that they could not again rise to the surface. And time will one day justify Maury’s other opinion, that these substances thus accumulated for ages will become petrified by the action of the water and will then form inexhaustible coal-mines—a precious reserve prepared by far-seeing Nature for the moment when men shall have exhausted the mines of continents.

I share Maury’s opinion, and I was able to study the phenomenon right in its midst, where ships rarely venture. Above us, all kinds of debris floated among the brownish plants. There were tree trunks torn from the Andes or the Rocky Mountains and carried along by the Amazon or the Mississippi. There were also many wrecks, pieces of keels and ships’ bottoms, and smashed side planks. These were so weighed down with shells and barnacles that they could not rise to the surface again. Time will one day prove Maury’s other opinion right as well. He believed that water would turn these materials, accumulated over ages, to stone. They would then form inexhaustible coal mines, a precious reserve prepared by far-seeing Nature for when people have exhausted the mines on land.

In the midst of this inextricable mass of plants and sea weed, I noticed some charming pink halcyons and actiniae, with their long tentacles trailing after them, and medusæ, green, red, and blue.

Among the tangled mass of plants and seaweed, I noticed some charming pink halcyons and sea anemones, trailing long tentacles. I also saw green, red, and blue jellyfish.

All the day of the 22nd of February we passed in the Sargasso Sea, where such fish as are partial to marine plants find abundant nourishment. The next, the ocean had returned to its accustomed aspect. From this time for nineteen days, from the 23rd of February to the 12th of March, the Nautilus kept in the middle of the Atlantic, carrying us at a constant speed of a hundred leagues in twenty-four hours. Captain Nemo evidently intended accomplishing his submarine programme, and I imagined that he intended, after doubling Cape Horn, to return to the Australian seas of the Pacific. Ned Land had cause for fear. In these large seas, void of islands, we could not attempt to leave the boat. Nor had we any means of opposing Captain Nemo’s will. Our only course was to submit; but what we could neither gain by force nor cunning, I liked to think might be obtained by persuasion. This voyage ended, would he not consent to restore our liberty, under an oath never to reveal his existence?—an oath of honour which we should have religiously kept. But we must consider that delicate question with the Captain. But was I free to claim this liberty? Had he not himself said from the beginning, in the firmest manner, that the secret of his life exacted from him our lasting imprisonment on board the Nautilus? And would not my four months’ silence appear to him a tacit acceptance of our situation? And would not a return to the subject result in raising suspicions which might be hurtful to our projects, if at some future time a favourable opportunity offered to return to them?

We spent all of February 22 in the Sargasso Sea. Fish that favor marine plants find plenty of food there. The next day, the ocean had returned to its usual appearance. For nineteen days after that, from February 23 to March 12, the Nautilus stayed in the middle of the Atlantic. It carried us at a constant speed of a hundred leagues every twenty-four hours. Captain Nemo clearly intended to carry out his underwater plans. I imagined that after rounding Cape Horn, he meant to return to the Australian waters of the Pacific. Ned Land had reason to be afraid. In these vast seas, without islands, we could not attempt to leave the boat. Nor did we have any way to oppose Captain Nemo’s will. We had no choice but to submit. But I liked to think we might win through persuasion what we could not gain by force or cunning. Once this voyage was over, might he agree to set us free? We could swear never to reveal his existence. We would have faithfully kept such an oath of honor. But we would have to discuss that delicate question with the Captain. Was I even free to ask for our liberty? Had he not said firmly from the beginning that his secret required him to keep us aboard the Nautilus for life? And would my four months of silence not seem to him like an unspoken acceptance of our situation? If I raised the subject again, might it not arouse suspicions? Those suspicions could harm our plans if a favorable opportunity to act on them arose later.

During the nineteen days mentioned above, no incident of any kind happened to signalise our voyage. I saw little of the Captain; he was at work. In the library I often found his books left open, especially those on natural history. My work on submarine depths, conned over by him, was covered with marginal notes, often contradicting my theories and systems; but the Captain contented himself with thus purging my work; it was very rare for him to discuss it with me. Sometimes I heard the melancholy tones of his organ; but only at night, in the midst of the deepest obscurity, when the Nautilus slept upon the deserted ocean. During this part of our voyage we sailed whole days on the surface of the waves. The sea seemed abandoned. A few sailing-vessels, on the road to India, were making for the Cape of Good Hope. One day we were followed by the boats of a whaler, who, no doubt, took us for some enormous whale of great price; but Captain Nemo did not wish the worthy fellows to lose their time and trouble, so ended the chase by plunging under the water. Our navigation continued until the 13th of March; that day the Nautilus was employed in taking soundings, which greatly interested me. We had then made about 13,000 leagues since our departure from the high seas of the Pacific. The bearings gave us 45° 37′ S. lat., and 37° 53′ W. long. It was the same water in which Captain Denham of the Herald sounded 7,000 fathoms without finding the bottom. There, too, Lieutenant Parker, of the American frigate Congress, could not touch the bottom with 15,140 fathoms. Captain Nemo intended seeking the bottom of the ocean by a diagonal sufficiently lengthened by means of lateral planes placed at an angle of 45° with the water-line of the Nautilus. Then the screw set to work at its maximum speed, its four blades beating the waves with in describable force. Under this powerful pressure, the hull of the Nautilus quivered like a sonorous chord and sank regularly under the water.

During the nineteen days mentioned above, nothing happened to mark our voyage. I saw little of the Captain, who was busy working. In the library, I often found his books left open, especially those on natural history. He had studied my work on ocean depths and covered it with notes in the margins. These often contradicted my theories and systems. But the Captain was content to correct my work in this way. He rarely discussed it with me. Sometimes I heard the melancholy tones of his organ. But he played only at night, in the deepest darkness, when the Nautilus rested on the deserted ocean. During this part of our voyage, we spent whole days sailing on the surface. The sea seemed abandoned. A few sailing vessels bound for India were heading toward the Cape of Good Hope. One day, a whaler's boats followed us, no doubt mistaking us for an enormous, valuable whale. But Captain Nemo did not want the worthy fellows to waste their time and effort. He ended the chase by diving underwater. Our voyage continued until March 13. That day, the Nautilus was measuring the depth of the ocean, which interested me greatly. We had traveled about 13,000 leagues since leaving the high seas of the Pacific. Our position was 45° 37′ S. latitude and 37° 53′ W. longitude. We were in the same waters where Captain Denham of the Herald had lowered a line 7,000 fathoms without finding the bottom. There, too, Lieutenant Parker of the American frigate Congress had failed to reach the bottom with 15,140 fathoms. Captain Nemo intended to reach the ocean floor by descending along a long diagonal path. To do this, he set the side planes at a 45° angle to the waterline of the Nautilus. Then the propeller began turning at full speed, its four blades beating the water with indescribable force. Under this powerful pressure, the hull of the Nautilus vibrated like a resonant chord and sank steadily beneath the water.

At 7,000 fathoms I saw some blackish tops rising from the midst of the waters; but these summits might belong to high mountains like the Himalayas or Mont Blanc, even higher; and the depth of the abyss remained incalculable. The Nautilus descended still lower, in spite of the great pressure. I felt the steel plates tremble at the fastenings of the bolts; its bars bent, its partitions groaned; the windows of the saloon seemed to curve under the pressure of the waters. And this firm structure would doubtless have yielded, if, as its Captain had said, it had not been capable of resistance like a solid block. We had attained a depth of 16,000 yards (four leagues), and the sides of the Nautilus then bore a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres, that is to say, 3,200 lbs. to each square two-fifths of an inch of its surface.

At 7,000 fathoms, I saw some blackish peaks rising through the water. But they might have belonged to mountains as high as the Himalayas or Mont Blanc, or even higher. The depth of the abyss remained impossible to calculate. The Nautilus descended still farther, despite the immense pressure. I felt the steel plates tremble where the bolts held them. Its bars bent, its partitions groaned, and the saloon windows seemed to curve under the pressure of the water. This sturdy vessel would doubtless have given way. But, as its Captain had said, it could resist the pressure like a solid block. We had reached a depth of 16,000 yards (four leagues). The sides of the Nautilus now bore a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres. That is, 3,200 lbs. on each square measuring two-fifths of an inch on each side.

“What a situation to be in!” I exclaimed. “To overrun these deep regions where man has never trod! Look, Captain, look at these magnificent rocks, these uninhabited grottoes, these lowest receptacles of the globe, where life is no longer possible! What unknown sights are here! Why should we be unable to preserve a remembrance of them?”

“What an incredible situation!” I exclaimed. “To explore these depths where no one has ever set foot! Look, Captain, look at these magnificent rocks and deserted caves, these deepest places on Earth, where life is no longer possible! What unknown sights are here! Why can’t we preserve a record of them?”

“Would you like to carry away more than the remembrance?” said Captain Nemo.

“Would you like to take away more than a memory?” said Captain Nemo.

“What do you mean by those words?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean to say that nothing is easier than to make a photographic view of this submarine region.”

“I mean that nothing is easier than taking a photograph of this underwater region.”

I had not time to express my surprise at this new proposition, when, at Captain Nemo’s call, an objective was brought into the saloon. Through the widely-opened panel, the liquid mass was bright with electricity, which was distributed with such uniformity that not a shadow, not a gradation, was to be seen in our manufactured light. The Nautilus remained motionless, the force of its screw subdued by the inclination of its planes: the instrument was propped on the bottom of the oceanic site, and in a few seconds we had obtained a perfect negative.

Before I could express my surprise at this new proposal, Captain Nemo called for a camera lens to be brought into the saloon. Through the wide-open panel, the water glowed with electric light. The light was so evenly spread that there was not a shadow or a variation in brightness. The Nautilus remained motionless, its angled planes counteracting the force of its propeller. The instrument was placed on the ocean floor, and within seconds we had a perfect negative.

But, the operation being over, Captain Nemo said, “Let us go up; we must not abuse our position, nor expose the Nautilus too long to such great pressure.”

But when the operation was over, Captain Nemo said, “Let us go up. We must not take advantage of our position or expose the Nautilus to such great pressure for too long.”

“Go up again!” I exclaimed.

“Go up again!” I exclaimed.

“Hold well on.”

“Hold on tight.”

I had not time to understand why the Captain cautioned me thus, when I was thrown forward on to the carpet. At a signal from the Captain, its screw was shipped, and its blades raised vertically; the Nautilus shot into the air like a balloon, rising with stunning rapidity, and cutting the mass of waters with a sonorous agitation. Nothing was visible; and in four minutes it had shot through the four leagues which separated it from the ocean, and, after emerging like a flying-fish, fell, making the waves rebound to an enormous height.

Before I could understand why the Captain had warned me, I was thrown forward onto the carpet. At the Captain's signal, the propeller was brought in and its blades raised vertically. The Nautilus shot upward like a balloon, rising with stunning speed and churning noisily through the water. Nothing was visible. In four minutes, it had covered the four leagues separating it from the ocean. It burst out like a flying fish, then fell back, sending the waves to an enormous height.