Four Thousand Leagues Under the Pacific

The next morning, the 18th of November, I had quite recovered from my fatigues of the day before, and I went up on to the platform, just as the second lieutenant was uttering his daily phrase.

By the next morning, November 18, I had fully recovered from the previous day's exertions. I went up to the platform just as the second lieutenant was saying his daily phrase.

I was admiring the magnificent aspect of the ocean when Captain Nemo appeared. He did not seem to be aware of my presence, and began a series of astronomical observations. Then, when he had finished, he went and leant on the cage of the watch-light, and gazed abstractedly on the ocean. In the meantime, a number of the sailors of the Nautilus, all strong and healthy men, had come up onto the platform. They came to draw up the nets that had been laid all night. These sailors were evidently of different nations, although the European type was visible in all of them. I recognised some unmistakable Irishmen, Frenchmen, some Sclaves, and a Greek, or a Candiote. They were civil, and only used that odd language among themselves, the origin of which I could not guess, neither could I question them.

I was admiring the magnificent ocean when Captain Nemo appeared. He did not seem to notice me and began making astronomical observations. When he had finished, he leaned against the cage around the watch-light and gazed absentmindedly at the ocean. Meanwhile, several sailors from the Nautilus came up onto the platform. They were all strong, healthy men. They had come to haul up the nets that had been out all night. The sailors were clearly from different nations, although all of them looked European. I recognized some unmistakable Irishmen, Frenchmen, some Sclaves, and a Greek or a Candiote. They were polite and spoke only that odd language among themselves. I could not guess where the language came from, nor could I ask them.

The nets were hauled in. They were a large kind of “chaluts,” like those on the Normandy coasts, great pockets that the waves and a chain fixed in the smaller meshes kept open. These pockets, drawn by iron poles, swept through the water, and gathered in everything in their way. That day they brought up curious specimens from those productive coasts.

The nets were hauled in. They were a large kind of “chaluts,” like those used along the Normandy coast. They formed huge pockets, held open by the waves and a chain fixed in the smaller meshes. Drawn by iron poles, the pockets swept through the water and collected everything in their path. That day, they brought up curious specimens from those productive coasts.

I reckoned that the haul had brought in more than nine hundredweight of fish. It was a fine haul, but not to be wondered at. Indeed, the nets are let down for several hours, and enclose in their meshes an infinite variety. We had no lack of excellent food, and the rapidity of the Nautilus and the attraction of the electric light could always renew our supply. These several productions of the sea were immediately lowered through the panel to the steward’s room, some to be eaten fresh, and others pickled.

I estimated that the catch contained more than nine hundredweight of fish. It was a fine catch, but not surprising. The nets stay down for several hours and trap an endless variety of fish. We had plenty of excellent food. The speed of the Nautilus and the attraction of its electric light could always replenish our supply. The seafood was immediately lowered through the hatch to the steward’s room. Some would be eaten fresh, and the rest pickled.

The fishing ended, the provision of air renewed, I thought that the Nautilus was about to continue its submarine excursion, and was preparing to return to my room, when, without further preamble, the Captain turned to me, saying:

The fishing was over, and the air supply had been replenished. I thought the Nautilus was about to continue its underwater journey. I was preparing to return to my room when the Captain turned to me and said without preamble:

“Professor, is not this ocean gifted with real life? It has its tempers and its gentle moods. Yesterday it slept as we did, and now it has woke after a quiet night. Look!” he continued, “it wakes under the caresses of the sun. It is going to renew its diurnal existence. It is an interesting study to watch the play of its organisation. It has a pulse, arteries, spasms; and I agree with the learned Maury, who discovered in it a circulation as real as the circulation of blood in animals.

“Professor, isn’t this ocean truly alive? It has its tempers and its gentle moods. Yesterday it slept as we did. Now it has awakened after a quiet night. Look!” he continued, “it wakes under the sun’s gentle touch. It is about to begin another day of life. It is fascinating to watch how it works. It has a pulse, arteries, and spasms. And I agree with the learned Maury. He discovered that the ocean has a circulation as real as the circulation of blood in animals.

“Yes, the ocean has indeed circulation, and to promote it, the Creator has caused things to multiply in it—caloric, salt, and animalculae.”

“Yes, the ocean does circulate. To help it circulate, the Creator has caused heat, salt, and microscopic organisms to multiply in it.”

When Captain Nemo spoke thus, he seemed altogether changed, and aroused an extraordinary emotion in me.

When Captain Nemo spoke this way, he seemed completely changed, and he stirred an extraordinary emotion in me.

“Also,” he added, “true existence is there; and I can imagine the foundations of nautical towns, clusters of submarine houses, which, like the Nautilus, would ascend every morning to breathe at the surface of the water, free towns, independent cities. Yet who knows whether some despot——”

“Also,” he added, “that is where true life is. I can imagine towns built at sea, clusters of underwater houses. Like the Nautilus, they would rise to the surface every morning to breathe. They would be free towns, independent cities. Yet who knows whether some tyrant...”

Captain Nemo finished his sentence with a violent gesture. Then, addressing me as if to chase away some sorrowful thought:

Captain Nemo finished speaking with a violent gesture. Then he turned to me, as if trying to chase away a sad thought:

“M. Aronnax,” he asked, “do you know the depth of the ocean?”

“M. Aronnax,” he asked, “do you know how deep the ocean is?”

“I only know, Captain, what the principal soundings have taught us.”

“I only know, Captain, what the main depth measurements have taught us.”

“Could you tell me them, so that I can suit them to my purpose?”

“Could you tell me what they are, so I can adapt them to my purpose?”

“These are some,” I replied, “that I remember. If I am not mistaken, a depth of 8,000 yards has been found in the North Atlantic, and 2,500 yards in the Mediterranean. The most remarkable soundings have been made in the South Atlantic, near the thirty-fifth parallel, and they gave 12,000 yards, 14,000 yards, and 15,000 yards. To sum up all, it is reckoned that if the bottom of the sea were levelled, its mean depth would be about one and three-quarter leagues.”

“Here are some I remember,” I replied. “If I’m not mistaken, a depth of 8,000 yards has been measured in the North Atlantic, and 2,500 yards in the Mediterranean. The most remarkable depth measurements were taken in the South Atlantic, near the thirty-fifth parallel. They showed depths of 12,000, 14,000, and 15,000 yards. In short, it is estimated that if the seafloor were leveled, its average depth would be about one and three-quarter leagues.”

“Well, Professor,” replied the Captain, “we shall show you better than that I hope. As to the mean depth of this part of the Pacific, I tell you it is only 4,000 yards.”

“Well, Professor,” replied the Captain, “I hope we can show you something better than that. As for the average depth of this part of the Pacific, I can tell you it is only 4,000 yards.”

Having said this, Captain Nemo went towards the panel, and disappeared down the ladder. I followed him, and went into the large drawing-room. The screw was immediately put in motion, and the log gave twenty miles an hour.

After saying this, Captain Nemo went to the panel and disappeared down the ladder. I followed him into the large sitting room. The propeller started immediately, and the speed log showed twenty miles an hour.

During the days and weeks that passed, Captain Nemo was very sparing of his visits. I seldom saw him. The lieutenant pricked the ship’s course regularly on the chart, so I could always tell exactly the route of the Nautilus.

As the days and weeks passed, Captain Nemo rarely visited. I seldom saw him. The lieutenant regularly marked the ship’s course on the chart, so I always knew the exact route of the Nautilus.

Nearly every day, for some time, the panels of the drawing-room were opened, and we were never tired of penetrating the mysteries of the submarine world.

For some time, the drawing room panels were opened nearly every day. We never tired of exploring the mysteries of the underwater world.

The general direction of the Nautilus was south-east, and it kept between 100 and 150 yards of depth. One day, however, I do not know why, being drawn diagonally by means of the inclined planes, it touched the bed of the sea. The thermometer indicated a temperature of 4.25 (cent.): a temperature that at this depth seemed common to all latitudes.

The Nautilus generally traveled southeast, at a depth of 100 to 150 yards. One day, however, it used its inclined planes to descend diagonally and touched the seabed. I do not know why. The thermometer read 4.25 degrees Celsius. At this depth, that temperature seemed common to all latitudes.

At three o’clock in the morning of the 26th of November the Nautilus crossed the tropic of Cancer at 172° long. On 27th instant it sighted the Sandwich Islands, where Cook died, February 14, 1779. We had then gone 4,860 leagues from our starting-point. In the morning, when I went on the platform, I saw two miles to windward, Hawaii, the largest of the seven islands that form the group. I saw clearly the cultivated ranges, and the several mountain-chains that run parallel with the side, and the volcanoes that overtop Mouna-Rea, which rise 5,000 yards above the level of the sea. Besides other things the nets brought up, were several flabellariae and graceful polypi, that are peculiar to that part of the ocean. The direction of the Nautilus was still to the south-east. It crossed the equator December 1, in 142° long.; and on the 4th of the same month, after crossing rapidly and without anything in particular occurring, we sighted the Marquesas group. I saw, three miles off, Martin’s peak in Nouka-Hiva, the largest of the group that belongs to France. I only saw the woody mountains against the horizon, because Captain Nemo did not wish to bring the ship to the wind. There the nets brought up beautiful specimens of fish: some with azure fins and tails like gold, the flesh of which is unrivalled; some nearly destitute of scales, but of exquisite flavour; others, with bony jaws, and yellow-tinged gills, as good as bonitos; all fish that would be of use to us. After leaving these charming islands protected by the French flag, from the 4th to the 11th of December the Nautilus sailed over about 2,000 miles.

At three o’clock on the morning of November 26, the Nautilus crossed the Tropic of Cancer at longitude 172°. On November 27, we sighted the Sandwich Islands, where Cook died on February 14, 1779. We had traveled 4,860 leagues from our starting point. That morning, when I went onto the platform, I saw Hawaii two miles upwind. It is the largest of the seven islands in the group. I could clearly see the cultivated slopes and the mountain ranges running parallel to the coast. I also saw the volcanoes above Mouna-Rea, which rise 5,000 yards above sea level. Among other things, the nets brought up several flabellariae and graceful polyps found only in that part of the ocean. The Nautilus was still heading southeast. It crossed the equator on December 1 at longitude 142°. On December 4, after a rapid crossing during which nothing in particular happened, we sighted the Marquesas group. Three miles away, I saw Martin’s peak on Nouka-Hiva, the largest island in the group belonging to France. I saw only the wooded mountains against the horizon because Captain Nemo did not want to turn the ship toward the wind. There the nets brought up beautiful specimens of fish. Some had blue fins and golden tails, and their flesh was unrivaled. Some had almost no scales but were delicious. Others had bony jaws and yellow-tinged gills and were as good as bonitos. All these fish would be useful to us. After leaving these charming islands protected by the French flag, the Nautilus traveled about 2,000 miles between December 4 and 11.

During the daytime of the 11th of December I was busy reading in the large drawing-room. Ned Land and Conseil watched the luminous water through the half-open panels. The Nautilus was immovable. While its reservoirs were filled, it kept at a depth of 1,000 yards, a region rarely visited in the ocean, and in which large fish were seldom seen.

During the day on December 11, I was busy reading in the large sitting room. Ned Land and Conseil watched the glowing water through the half-open panels. The Nautilus was motionless. With its reservoirs filled, it remained at a depth of 1,000 yards. This part of the ocean was rarely visited, and large fish were seldom seen there.

I was then reading a charming book by Jean Mace, The Slaves of the Stomach, and I was learning some valuable lessons from it, when Conseil interrupted me.

I was reading a charming book by Jean Mace, The Slaves of the Stomach. I was learning some valuable lessons from it when Conseil interrupted me.

“Will master come here a moment?” he said, in a curious voice.

“Will master come here for a moment?” he said in a curious voice.

“What is the matter, Conseil?”

“What’s wrong, Conseil?”

“I want master to look.”

“I want master to look.”

I rose, went, and leaned on my elbows before the panes and watched.

I got up, went to the windows, leaned on my elbows, and watched.

In a full electric light, an enormous black mass, quite immovable, was suspended in the midst of the waters. I watched it attentively, seeking to find out the nature of this gigantic cetacean. But a sudden thought crossed my mind. “A vessel!” I said, half aloud.

In the bright electric light, an enormous black mass hung motionless in the water. I watched it closely, trying to figure out what kind of giant whale it was. But a sudden thought crossed my mind. “A vessel!” I said quietly.

“Yes,” replied the Canadian, “a disabled ship that has sunk perpendicularly.”

“Yes,” replied the Canadian, “a disabled ship that sank straight down.”

Ned Land was right; we were close to a vessel of which the tattered shrouds still hung from their chains. The keel seemed to be in good order, and it had been wrecked at most some few hours. Three stumps of masts, broken off about two feet above the bridge, showed that the vessel had had to sacrifice its masts. But, lying on its side, it had filled, and it was heeling over to port. This skeleton of what it had once been was a sad spectacle as it lay lost under the waves, but sadder still was the sight of the bridge, where some corpses, bound with ropes, were still lying. I counted five—four men, one of whom was standing at the helm, and a woman standing by the poop, holding an infant in her arms. She was quite young. I could distinguish her features, which the water had not decomposed, by the brilliant light from the Nautilus. In one despairing effort, she had raised her infant above her head—poor little thing!—whose arms encircled its mother’s neck. The attitude of the four sailors was frightful, distorted as they were by their convulsive movements, whilst making a last effort to free themselves from the cords that bound them to the vessel. The steersman alone, calm, with a grave, clear face, his grey hair glued to his forehead, and his hand clutching the wheel of the helm, seemed even then to be guiding the three broken masts through the depths of the ocean.

Ned Land was right. We were close to a ship, its torn rigging still hanging from its chains. The keel seemed to be in good condition, and the ship had been wrecked only a few hours before, at most. Three mast stumps, broken off about two feet above the bridge, showed that the ship had sacrificed its masts. But it had filled with water while lying on its side and was leaning to port. The ship’s remains were a sad sight, lost beneath the waves. Sadder still was the sight of the bridge, where some bodies still lay bound with ropes. I counted five: four men, one of them standing at the helm, and a woman standing by the stern, holding an infant in her arms. She was very young. In the brilliant light from the Nautilus, I could make out her features, which the water had not decomposed. In one desperate effort, she had raised her infant above her head. The poor little thing’s arms were wrapped around its mother’s neck. The four sailors were a frightful sight. Their bodies were twisted by convulsions as they made a last effort to free themselves from the ropes binding them to the ship. Only the helmsman was calm. His face was solemn and clear, his gray hair plastered to his forehead, and his hand clutched the wheel. Even then, he seemed to be guiding the three broken masts through the depths of the ocean.

What a scene! We were dumb; our hearts beat fast before this shipwreck, taken as it were from life and photographed in its last moments. And I saw already, coming towards it with hungry eyes, enormous sharks, attracted by the human flesh.

What a sight! We were speechless, our hearts pounding at the sight of the wreck. It was as if the ship had been photographed in its final moments. I could already see enormous sharks approaching it, their eyes hungry, drawn by the human flesh.

However, the Nautilus, turning, went round the submerged vessel, and in one instant I read on the stern—“The Florida, Sunderland.”

However, the Nautilus turned and circled the submerged vessel. In an instant, I read the name on its stern: “The Florida, Sunderland.”