Captain Nemo's Last Words

The panels had closed on this dreadful vision, but light had not returned to the saloon: all was silence and darkness within the Nautilus. At wonderful speed, a hundred feet beneath the water, it was leaving this desolate spot. Whither was it going? To the north or south? Where was the man flying to after such dreadful retaliation? I had returned to my room, where Ned and Conseil had remained silent enough. I felt an insurmountable horror for Captain Nemo. Whatever he had suffered at the hands of these men, he had no right to punish thus. He had made me, if not an accomplice, at least a witness of his vengeance. At eleven the electric light reappeared. I passed into the saloon. It was deserted. I consulted the different instruments. The Nautilus was flying northward at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour, now on the surface, and now thirty feet below it. On taking the bearings by the chart, I saw that we were passing the mouth of the Manche, and that our course was hurrying us towards the northern seas at a frightful speed. That night we had crossed two hundred leagues of the Atlantic. The shadows fell, and the sea was covered with darkness until the rising of the moon. I went to my room, but could not sleep. I was troubled with dreadful nightmare. The horrible scene of destruction was continually before my eyes. From that day, who could tell into what part of the North Atlantic basin the Nautilus would take us? Still with unaccountable speed. Still in the midst of these northern fogs. Would it touch at Spitzbergen, or on the shores of Nova Zembla? Should we explore those unknown seas, the White Sea, the Sea of Kara, the Gulf of Obi, the Archipelago of Liarrov, and the unknown coast of Asia? I could not say. I could no longer judge of the time that was passing. The clocks had been stopped on board. It seemed, as in polar countries, that night and day no longer followed their regular course. I felt myself being drawn into that strange region where the foundered imagination of Edgar Poe roamed at will. Like the fabulous Gordon Pym, at every moment I expected to see “that veiled human figure, of larger proportions than those of any inhabitant of the earth, thrown across the cataract which defends the approach to the pole.” I estimated (though, perhaps, I may be mistaken)—I estimated this adventurous course of the Nautilus to have lasted fifteen or twenty days. And I know not how much longer it might have lasted, had it not been for the catastrophe which ended this voyage. Of Captain Nemo I saw nothing whatever now, nor of his second. Not a man of the crew was visible for an instant. The Nautilus was almost incessantly under water. When we came to the surface to renew the air, the panels opened and shut mechanically. There were no more marks on the planisphere. I knew not where we were. And the Canadian, too, his strength and patience at an end, appeared no more. Conseil could not draw a word from him; and, fearing that, in a dreadful fit of madness, he might kill himself, watched him with constant devotion. One morning (what date it was I could not say) I had fallen into a heavy sleep towards the early hours, a sleep both painful and unhealthy, when I suddenly awoke. Ned Land was leaning over me, saying, in a low voice, “We are going to fly.” I sat up.

The panels had closed on that dreadful sight, but the lights had not come back on in the saloon. Inside the Nautilus, all was silent and dark. A hundred feet beneath the water, the vessel was leaving that desolate place at incredible speed. Where was it going? North or south? Where was the man fleeing after such dreadful retaliation? I had returned to my room, where Ned and Conseil had remained quite silent. I felt an overwhelming horror of Captain Nemo. Whatever he had suffered at the hands of those men, he had no right to punish them like that. He had made me, if not an accomplice, at least a witness to his vengeance. At eleven, the electric light came back on. I went into the saloon. It was deserted. I checked the instruments. The Nautilus was racing north at twenty-five miles an hour, sometimes on the surface, sometimes thirty feet below it. I checked our position on the chart and saw that we were passing the mouth of the Manche. Our course was carrying us toward the northern seas at a frightening speed. That night we crossed two hundred leagues of the Atlantic. Darkness fell over the sea until the moon rose. I went to my room, but I could not sleep. I was troubled by dreadful nightmares. The horrible scene of destruction was constantly before my eyes. From that day on, who could tell where in the North Atlantic basin the Nautilus would take us? It continued at an inexplicable speed, still surrounded by northern fog. Would it stop at Spitzbergen or on the shores of Nova Zembla? Would we explore those unknown seas, the White Sea, the Sea of Kara, the Gulf of Obi, the Archipelago of Liarrov, and the unknown coast of Asia? I could not say. I could no longer tell how much time was passing. The clocks on board had been stopped. As in polar countries, night and day seemed to have lost their regular rhythm. I felt myself being drawn into that strange region where the untethered imagination of Edgar Poe roamed freely. Like the legendary Gordon Pym, I expected at any moment to see “that veiled human figure, of larger proportions than those of any inhabitant of the earth, thrown across the cataract which defends the approach to the pole.” I estimated that this adventurous course of the Nautilus had lasted fifteen or twenty days. Perhaps I was mistaken. And I do not know how much longer it might have lasted, had the voyage not ended in catastrophe. By now I saw nothing of Captain Nemo or his second. Not one member of the crew was visible for an instant. The Nautilus was underwater almost constantly. When we surfaced to renew the air, the panels opened and closed mechanically. No more positions were marked on the planisphere. I did not know where we were. The Canadian, too, appeared no more. His strength and patience were exhausted. Conseil could not get a word out of him. Fearing that Ned might kill himself in a dreadful fit of madness, Conseil watched over him with constant devotion. One morning, though I could not say what date it was, I suddenly awoke. I had fallen into a heavy sleep in the early hours, a sleep that was both painful and unhealthy. Ned Land was leaning over me. In a low voice, he said, “We are going to escape.” I sat up.

“When shall we go?” I asked.

“When will we go?” I asked.

“To-night. All inspection on board the Nautilus seems to have ceased. All appear to be stupefied. You will be ready, sir?”

“Tonight. All inspections aboard the Nautilus seem to have stopped. Everyone seems stunned. Will you be ready, sir?”

“Yes; where are we?”

“Yes. Where are we?”

“In sight of land. I took the reckoning this morning in the fog—twenty miles to the east.”

“Land is in sight. I calculated our position in the fog this morning. The land is twenty miles east.”

“What country is it?”

“What country is it?”

“I do not know; but, whatever it is, we will take refuge there.”

“I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll take shelter there.”

“Yes, Ned, yes. We will fly to-night, even if the sea should swallow us up.”

“Yes, Ned, yes. We will escape tonight, even if the sea swallows us up.”

“The sea is bad, the wind violent, but twenty miles in that light boat of the Nautilus does not frighten me. Unknown to the crew, I have been able to procure food and some bottles of water.”

“The sea is rough and the wind is strong, but twenty miles in the Nautilus’s light boat doesn’t frighten me. Without the crew knowing, I’ve managed to get food and some bottles of water.”

“I will follow you.”

“I will follow you.”

“But,” continued the Canadian, “if I am surprised, I will defend myself; I will force them to kill me.”

“But,” the Canadian went on, “if they catch me by surprise, I’ll defend myself. I’ll force them to kill me.”

“We will die together, friend Ned.”

“We’ll die together, my friend Ned.”

I had made up my mind to all. The Canadian left me. I reached the platform, on which I could with difficulty support myself against the shock of the waves. The sky was threatening; but, as land was in those thick brown shadows, we must fly. I returned to the saloon, fearing and yet hoping to see Captain Nemo, wishing and yet not wishing to see him. What could I have said to him? Could I hide the involuntary horror with which he inspired me? No. It was better that I should not meet him face to face; better to forget him. And yet—— How long seemed that day, the last that I should pass in the Nautilus. I remained alone. Ned Land and Conseil avoided speaking, for fear of betraying themselves. At six I dined, but I was not hungry; I forced myself to eat in spite of my disgust, that I might not weaken myself. At half-past six Ned Land came to my room, saying, “We shall not see each other again before our departure. At ten the moon will not be risen. We will profit by the darkness. Come to the boat; Conseil and I will wait for you.”

I had made up my mind about everything. The Canadian left me. I went up to the platform, where I could barely keep my footing against the force of the waves. The sky looked threatening, but land lay in those thick brown shadows, so we had to escape. I returned to the saloon, both fearing and hoping to see Captain Nemo, both wishing and not wishing to see him. What could I have said to him? Could I hide the horror he stirred in me against my will? No. It was better not to meet him face to face, better to forget him. And yet... How long that day seemed, my last aboard the Nautilus. I remained alone. Ned Land and Conseil avoided speaking for fear of giving themselves away. At six I ate dinner, but I was not hungry. I forced myself to eat despite my disgust, so I would not grow weak. At half past six Ned Land came to my room and said, “We will not see each other again before we leave. At ten the moon will not have risen. We will take advantage of the darkness. Come to the boat. Conseil and I will wait for you.”

The Canadian went out without giving me time to answer. Wishing to verify the course of the Nautilus, I went to the saloon. We were running N.N.E. at frightful speed, and more than fifty yards deep. I cast a last look on these wonders of nature, on the riches of art heaped up in this museum, upon the unrivalled collection destined to perish at the bottom of the sea, with him who had formed it. I wished to fix an indelible impression of it in my mind. I remained an hour thus, bathed in the light of that luminous ceiling, and passing in review those treasures shining under their glasses. Then I returned to my room.

The Canadian left without giving me time to answer. I went to the saloon to check the course of the Nautilus. We were heading north-northeast at a frightening speed, more than fifty yards below the surface. I took one last look at the wonders of nature and the treasures of art gathered in this museum. This unrivaled collection was destined to perish at the bottom of the sea with the man who had assembled it. I wanted to fix it in my memory forever. For an hour I stayed there, bathed in the light of the glowing ceiling. I looked over the treasures shining beneath their glass cases. Then I returned to my room.

I dressed myself in strong sea clothing. I collected my notes, placing them carefully about me. My heart beat loudly. I could not check its pulsations. Certainly my trouble and agitation would have betrayed me to Captain Nemo’s eyes. What was he doing at this moment? I listened at the door of his room. I heard steps. Captain Nemo was there. He had not gone to rest. At every moment I expected to see him appear, and ask me why I wished to fly. I was constantly on the alert. My imagination magnified everything. The impression became at last so poignant that I asked myself if it would not be better to go to the Captain’s room, see him face to face, and brave him with look and gesture.

I dressed in sturdy clothes for the sea. I gathered my notes and carefully tucked them around me. My heart was pounding, and I could not slow it. Surely Captain Nemo would see how anxious and agitated I was. What was he doing at that moment? I listened at the door to his room and heard footsteps. Captain Nemo was there. He had not gone to bed. I expected him to appear at any moment and ask why I wanted to escape. I was constantly on guard. My imagination made everything seem worse. At last, my anxiety became so intense that I wondered if I should go to his room. I could face him and defy him with my eyes and gestures.

It was the inspiration of a madman; fortunately I resisted the desire, and stretched myself on my bed to quiet my bodily agitation. My nerves were somewhat calmer, but in my excited brain I saw over again all my existence on board the Nautilus; every incident, either happy or unfortunate, which had happened since my disappearance from the Abraham Lincoln—the submarine hunt, the Torres Straits, the savages of Papua, the running ashore, the coral cemetery, the passage of Suez, the Island of Santorin, the Cretan diver, Vigo Bay, Atlantis, the iceberg, the South Pole, the imprisonment in the ice, the fight among the poulps, the storm in the Gulf Stream, the Avenger, and the horrible scene of the vessel sunk with all her crew. All these events passed before my eyes like scenes in a drama. Then Captain Nemo seemed to grow enormously, his features to assume superhuman proportions. He was no longer my equal, but a man of the waters, the genie of the sea.

It was the impulse of a madman. Fortunately, I resisted the urge and stretched out on my bed to calm my body. My nerves grew somewhat calmer, but in my excited mind I relived my entire life aboard the Nautilus. I saw every happy and unhappy incident since my disappearance from the Abraham Lincoln. There was the underwater hunt, the Torres Straits, the savages of Papua, the grounding, the coral cemetery, and the passage through Suez. Then came the Island of Santorin, the Cretan diver, Vigo Bay, Atlantis, the iceberg, and the South Pole. I recalled our imprisonment in the ice, the fight with the poulps, and the storm in the Gulf Stream. I saw the Avenger and the horrible sight of the ship sinking with all her crew. All these events passed before my eyes like scenes in a play. Then Captain Nemo seemed to grow enormous, his features taking on superhuman proportions. He was no longer my equal, but a man of the waters, the genie of the sea.

It was then half-past nine. I held my head between my hands to keep it from bursting. I closed my eyes; I would not think any longer. There was another half-hour to wait, another half-hour of a nightmare, which might drive me mad.

It was half past nine. I held my head in my hands to keep it from bursting. I closed my eyes. I refused to think anymore. I had another half hour to wait, another half hour of a nightmare that might drive me mad.

At that moment I heard the distant strains of the organ, a sad harmony to an undefinable chant, the wail of a soul longing to break these earthly bonds. I listened with every sense, scarcely breathing; plunged, like Captain Nemo, in that musical ecstasy, which was drawing him in spirit to the end of life.

At that moment, I heard the organ playing in the distance. Its sad harmony accompanied a chant I could not describe, the cry of a soul longing to break free from earthly bonds. I listened with all my senses, scarcely breathing. Like Captain Nemo, I was lost in the ecstasy of the music, which was drawing his spirit toward the end of life.

Then a sudden thought terrified me. Captain Nemo had left his room. He was in the saloon, which I must cross to fly. There I should meet him for the last time. He would see me, perhaps speak to me. A gesture of his might destroy me, a single word chain me on board.

Then a sudden thought terrified me. Captain Nemo had left his room. He was in the saloon, which I had to cross to escape. There I would meet him for the last time. He would see me and perhaps speak to me. A gesture from him could destroy me. A single word could keep me on board.

But ten was about to strike. The moment had come for me to leave my room, and join my companions.

But it was almost ten o'clock. It was time to leave my room and join my companions.

I must not hesitate, even if Captain Nemo himself should rise before me. I opened my door carefully; and even then, as it turned on its hinges, it seemed to me to make a dreadful noise. Perhaps it only existed in my own imagination.

I must not hesitate, even if Captain Nemo himself appeared before me. I opened my door carefully, but it seemed to make a terrible noise as it swung on its hinges. Perhaps I only imagined the noise.

I crept along the dark stairs of the Nautilus, stopping at each step to check the beating of my heart. I reached the door of the saloon, and opened it gently. It was plunged in profound darkness. The strains of the organ sounded faintly. Captain Nemo was there. He did not see me. In the full light I do not think he would have noticed me, so entirely was he absorbed in the ecstasy.

I crept up the dark stairs of the Nautilus, stopping at each step to calm my racing heart. I reached the saloon door and opened it gently. The room was completely dark. I could faintly hear the organ playing. Captain Nemo was there. He did not see me. I do not think he would have noticed me even in full light. He was so completely absorbed in his ecstasy.

I crept along the carpet, avoiding the slightest sound which might betray my presence. I was at least five minutes reaching the door, at the opposite side, opening into the library.

I crept across the carpet, careful not to make the slightest sound that might reveal my presence. It took me at least five minutes to reach the door on the opposite side, which opened into the library.

I was going to open it, when a sigh from Captain Nemo nailed me to the spot. I knew that he was rising. I could even see him, for the light from the library came through to the saloon. He came towards me silently, with his arms crossed, gliding like a spectre rather than walking. His breast was swelling with sobs; and I heard him murmur these words (the last which ever struck my ear):

I was about to open it when a sigh from Captain Nemo froze me in place. I knew he was getting up. I could even see him because light from the library reached the saloon. He came toward me silently, his arms crossed, gliding like a ghost rather than walking. His chest heaved with sobs, and I heard him murmur these words, the last I ever heard him speak:

“Almighty God! enough! enough!”

“Almighty God! Enough! Enough!”

Was it a confession of remorse which thus escaped from this man’s conscience?

Had a confession of remorse slipped from this man's conscience?

In desperation, I rushed through the library, mounted the central staircase, and, following the upper flight, reached the boat. I crept through the opening, which had already admitted my two companions.

In desperation, I rushed through the library and climbed the central staircase. I followed the upper flight to the boat. I crept through the opening where my two companions had already entered.

“Let us go! let us go!” I exclaimed.

“Let's go! Let's go!” I exclaimed.

“Directly!” replied the Canadian.

“Right away!” replied the Canadian.

The orifice in the plates of the Nautilus was first closed, and fastened down by means of a false key, with which Ned Land had provided himself; the opening in the boat was also closed. The Canadian began to loosen the bolts which still held us to the submarine boat.

First, we closed the opening in the plates of the Nautilus and locked it with a false key Ned Land had obtained. We also closed the opening in the boat. The Canadian began loosening the bolts that still held us to the submarine.

Suddenly a noise was heard. Voices were answering each other loudly. What was the matter? Had they discovered our flight? I felt Ned Land slipping a dagger into my hand.

Suddenly, there was a noise. Voices were calling loudly to one another. What was happening? Had they discovered our escape? I felt Ned Land slip a dagger into my hand.

“Yes,” I murmured, “we know how to die!”

“Yes,” I whispered, “we know how to die!”

The Canadian had stopped in his work. But one word many times repeated, a dreadful word, revealed the cause of the agitation spreading on board the Nautilus. It was not we the crew were looking after!

The Canadian had stopped working. But one word, repeated again and again, revealed why everyone aboard the Nautilus was so agitated. It was a dreadful word. The crew were not looking for us!

“The maelstrom! the maelstrom!” Could a more dreadful word in a more dreadful situation have sounded in our ears! We were then upon the dangerous coast of Norway. Was the Nautilus being drawn into this gulf at the moment our boat was going to leave its sides? We knew that at the tide the pent-up waters between the islands of Ferroe and Loffoden rush with irresistible violence, forming a whirlpool from which no vessel ever escapes. From every point of the horizon enormous waves were meeting, forming a gulf justly called the “Navel of the Ocean,” whose power of attraction extends to a distance of twelve miles. There, not only vessels, but whales are sacrificed, as well as white bears from the northern regions.

“The maelstrom! the maelstrom!” Could we have heard a more dreadful word at a more dreadful moment? We were off the dangerous coast of Norway. Was the Nautilus being pulled into this gulf just as our boat was about to leave its side? We knew that at the turn of the tide, pent-up water rushes between the islands of Ferroe and Loffoden. It rushes with irresistible force, forming a whirlpool from which no vessel ever escapes. Enormous waves were converging from every direction, forming a gulf rightly called the “Navel of the Ocean.” Its pull reaches twelve miles. Not only vessels, but whales and white bears from the northern regions are lost there.

It is thither that the Nautilus, voluntarily or involuntarily, had been run by the Captain.

The Captain had steered the Nautilus there, either on purpose or by accident.

It was describing a spiral, the circumference of which was lessening by degrees, and the boat, which was still fastened to its side, was carried along with giddy speed. I felt that sickly giddiness which arises from long-continued whirling round.

It was moving in an ever tighter spiral. The boat, still fastened to its side, was carried along at dizzying speed. I felt sick and dizzy from spinning around for so long.

We were in dread. Our horror was at its height, circulation had stopped, all nervous influence was annihilated, and we were covered with cold sweat, like a sweat of agony! And what noise around our frail bark! What roarings repeated by the echo miles away! What an uproar was that of the waters broken on the sharp rocks at the bottom, where the hardest bodies are crushed, and trees worn away, “with all the fur rubbed off,” according to the Norwegian phrase!

We were terrified. Our horror was at its height. Our blood had stopped flowing, and all feeling had vanished. We were covered in cold sweat, as if in agony! And what a noise surrounded our fragile boat! The roars echoed for miles! What an uproar the water made as it broke against the sharp rocks below! There, even the hardest objects are crushed, and trees are worn away, “with all the fur rubbed off,” as the Norwegian phrase puts it!

What a situation to be in! We rocked frightfully. The Nautilus defended itself like a human being. Its steel muscles cracked. Sometimes it seemed to stand upright, and we with it!

What a situation! We rocked violently. The Nautilus defended itself like a human being. Its steel muscles cracked. Sometimes it seemed to stand upright, and we stood upright with it!

“We must hold on,” said Ned, “and look after the bolts. We may still be saved if we stick to the Nautilus.”

“We have to hold on,” said Ned, “and keep an eye on the bolts. We may still be saved if we stay with the Nautilus.”

He had not finished the words, when we heard a crashing noise, the bolts gave way, and the boat, torn from its groove, was hurled like a stone from a sling into the midst of the whirlpool.

Before he could finish speaking, we heard a crash. The bolts gave way, and the boat tore free of its groove. It was hurled into the middle of the whirlpool like a stone from a sling.

My head struck on a piece of iron, and with the violent shock I lost all consciousness.

My head struck a piece of iron, and the violent impact knocked me unconscious.