Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Jules Verne

  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 Gangesau 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 funereal 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.

  Conseil could not believe his eyes, and questioned me as to the cause of this strange phenomenon. Happily 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.”

  “But, sir,” said Conseil, “can you tell me what causes such an effect, for I suppose the water is not really turned 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 color, of the thickness of a hair, and whose length is not more than the seven-one-thousandths of an inch. These insects adhere to one another sometimes for several leagues.”

  “Several leagues!” exclaimed 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.”

  Toward midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual color; 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.av

  Chapter II

  A Novel Proposal of Captain Nemo’s

  ON THE 28TH OF February, when at noon the Nautilus came to the surface of the sea, in 9° 4’ north latitude, there was land in sight about eight miles to westward. The first thing I noticed was a range of mountains about two thousand feet high, the shapes of which were most capricious. On taking the bearings, I knew that we were nearing the island of Ceylon, the pearl which hangs from the lobe of the Indian Peninsula.

  Captain Nemo and his second appeared at this moment. The captain glanced at the map. Then, turning to me, said:

  “The island of Ceylon, noted for its pearl-fisheries. Would you like to visit one of them, M. Aronnax?”

  “Certainly, captain.”

  “Well, the thing is easy. Though if we see the fisheries, we shall not see the fishermen. The annual exportation has not yet begun. Never mind, I will give orders to make for the Gulf of Manaar, where we shall arrive in the night.”

  The captain said something to his second, who immediately went out. Soon the Nautilus returned to her native element, and the manometer showed that she was about thirty feet deep.

  “Well, sir,” said Captain Nemo, “you and your companions shall visit the Bank of Manaar, and if by chance some fisherman should be there, we shall see him at work.”

  “Agreed, captain!”

  “By the bye, M. Aronnax, you are not afraid of sharks?”

  “Sharks!” exclaimed I.

  This question seemed a very hard one.

  “Well?” continued Captain Nemo.

  “I admit, captain, that I am not yet very familiar with that kind of fish.”

  “We are accustomed to them,” replied Captain Nerno, “and in time you will be too. However, we shall be armed, and on the road we may be able to hunt some of the tribe. It is interesting. So, till tomorrow, sir, and early.”

  This said in a careless tone, Captain Nemo left the saloon. Now, if you were invited to hunt the bear in the mountains of Switzerland, what would you say? “Very well! To-morrow we will go and hunt the bear.” If you were asked to hunt the lion in the plains of Atlas, or the tiger in the Indian jungles, what would you say? “Ha! ha! it seems we are going to hunt the tiger or the lion!” But when you are invited to hunt the shark in its natural element, you would perhaps reflect before accepting the invitation. As for myself, I passed my hand over my forehead, on which stood large drops of cold perspiration. “Let us reflect,” said 1, “and take our time. Hunting otters in submarine forests, as we did in the island of Crespo, will pass; but going up and down at the bottom of the sea, where one is almost certain to meet sharks, is quite another thing! I know well that in certain countries, particularly in the Andaman Islands, the Negroes never hesitate to attack them with a dagger in one hand and a running noose in the other; but I also know that few who affront those creatures ever return alive. However, I am not a negro, and, if I were, I think a little hesitation in this case would not be ill-timed.”

  At this moment, Conseil and the Canadian entered, quite composed, and even joyous. They knew not what awaited them.

  “Faith, sir,” said Ned Land, “your Captain Nemo—the devil take him—has just made us a very pleasant offer!”

  “Ah!” said I. “You know?”

  “If agreeable to you, sir,” interrupted Conseil, “the commander of the Nautilus has invited us to visit the magnificent Ceylon fisheries to-morrow, in your company; he did it kindly, and behaved like a real gentleman.”

  “He said nothing more?”

  “Nothing more, sir, except that he had already spoken to you of this little walk.”

  “Sir,” said Conseil, “would you give us some details of the pearl-fishery?”

  “As to the fishing itself,” I asked, “or the incidents—which?”

  “On the fishing,” replied the Canadian; “before entering upon the ground, it is as well to know something about it.”

  “Very well; sit down, my friends, and I will teach you.”

  Ned and Conseil seated themselves on an ottoman, and the first thing the Canadian asked was:

  “Sir, what is a pearl?”

  “My worthy Ned,” I answered, “to the poet, a pearl is a tear of the sea; to the Orientals, it is a drop of dew solidified; to the ladies, it is a jewel of an oblong shape, of a brilliancy of mother-of-pearl substance, which they wear on their fingers, their necks, or their ears; for the chemist, it is a mixture of phosphate and carbonate of lime, with a little gelatine; and lastly, for naturalists, it is simply a morbid secretion of the organ that produces the mother-of-pearl among certain bivalves.”

  “Branch of molluska,” said Conseil, “class of acephali, order of testacea.”

  “Precisely so, my learned Conseil, and, among these testacea, the earshell, the tridacnæ, the turbots—in a word, all those which secrete mother-of-pearl, that is, the blue, bluish, violet, or white substance which lines the interior of their shells, are capable of producing pearls.”

  “Mussels too?” asked the Canadian.

  “Yes, mussels of certain waters in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony, Bohemia, and France.”

  “Good! For the future I shall pay attention,” replied the Canadian.

  “But,” I continued, “the particular mollusk which secretes the pearl is the pearl-oyster, the Meleagrina margaritifera, that precious pintadine. The pearl is nothing but a nacreous formation, deposited in a globular form, either adhering to the oyster shell, or buried in the folds of the creature. On the shell it is fast; in the flesh it is loose; but always has for a kernel a small, hard substance, maybe a barren egg, maybe a grain of sand, around which the pearly matter deposits itself year after year successively, and by thin concentric layers.”

  “Are many pearls found in the same oyster?” asked Conseil.

  “Yes, my boy. There are some pintadines a perfect casket. One oyster has been mentioned, though I allow myself to doubt it, as having contained no less than a hundred and fifty sharks.”

  “A hundred and fifty sharks!�
� exclaimed Ned Land.

  “Did I say sharks?” said I hurriedly. “I meant to say a hundred and fifty pearls. Sharks would not be sense.”

  “Certainly not,” said Conseil; “but will you tell us now by what means they extract these pearls?”

  “They proceed in various ways. When they adhere to the shell, the fishermen often pull them off with pinchers; but the most common way is to lay the pintadines on mats of the seaweed which covers the banks. Thus they die in the open air; and at the end of ten days they are in a forward state of decomposition. They are then plunged into large reservoirs of seawater; then they are opened and washed. Now begins the double work of the sorters. First they separate the layers of pearls, known in commerce by the name of bastard whites and bastard blacks, which are delivered in boxes of two hundred and fifty and three hundred pounds each. Then they take the parenchyma of the oyster, boil it, and pass it through a sieve in order to extract the very smallest pearls.”

  “The price of these pearls varies according to their size?’ asked Conseil.

  “Not only according to their size,” I answered, “but also according to their shape, their water (that is, their color), and their luster; that is, that bright and diapered sparkle which make them so charming to the eye. The most beautiful are called virgin pearls or paragons. They are formed alone in the tissue of the mollusk, are white, often opaque, and sometimes have the transparency of an opal; they are generally round or oval. The round are made into bracelets, the oval into pendants; and, being more precious, are sold singly. Those adhering to the shell of the oyster are more irregular in shape, and are sold by weight. Lastly, in a lower order are classed those small pearls known under the name of seed-pearls; they are sold by measure, and are especially used in embroidery for church ornaments.”

  “But,” said Conseil, “is this pearl-fishing dangerous?”

  “No,” I answered quickly; “particularly if certain precautions are taken.”

  “What does one risk in such a calling?” said Ned Land. “The swallowing of some mouthfuls of sea-water?”

  “As you say, Ned. By the bye,” said I, trying to take Captain Nemo’s careless tone, “are you afraid of sharks, brave Ned?”

  “I!” replied the Canadian. “A harpooner by profession! It is my trade to make light of them.”

  “But,” said I, “it is not a question of fishing for them with an iron swivel, hoisting them into the vessel, cutting off their tails with a blow of the chopper, ripping them up, and throwing their hearts into the sea!”

  “Then, it is a question of——”

  “Precisely.”

  “In the water?”

  “In the water.”

  “Faith, with a good harpoon! You know, sir, these sharks are ill-fashioned beasts. They must turn on their bellies to seize you, and in that time——”

  Ned Land had a way of saying “seize” which made my blood run cold.

  “Well, and you, Conseil, what do you think of sharks?”

  “Me!” said Conseil. “I will be frank, sir.”

  “So much the better,” thought I.

  “If you, sir, mean to face the sharks, I do not see why your faithful servant should not face them with you.”

  Chapter III

  A Pearl of Ten Millions

  THE NEXT MORNING AT four o’clock I was awakened by the steward, whom Captain Nemo had placed at my service. I rose hurriedly, dressed, and went into the saloon.

  Captain Nemo was awaiting me.

  “M. Aronnax,” said he, “are you ready to start?”

  “I am ready.”

  “Then, please to follow me.”

  “And my companions, captain?”

  “They have been told, and are waiting.”

  “Are we not to put on our diver’s dresses?” asked I.

  “Not yet. I have not allowed the Nautilus to come too near this coast, and we are some distance from the Manaar Bank; but the boat is ready, and will take us to the exact point of disembarking, which will save us a long way. It carries our diving apparatus, which we will put on when we begin our submarine journey.”

  Captain Nemo conducted me to the central staircase, which led on to the platform. Ned and Conseil were already there, delighted at the idea of the “pleasure party” which was preparing. Five sailors from the Nautilus, with their oars, waited in the boat, which had been made fast against the side.

  The night was still dark. Layers of clouds covered the sky, allowing but few stars to be seen. I looked on the side where the land lay, and saw nothing but a dark line inclosing three parts of the horizon, from southwest to northwest. The Nautilus, having returned during the night up the western coast of Ceylon, was now west of the bay, or rather gulf, formed by the mainland and the island of Manaar. There, under the dark waters, stretched the pintadine bank, an inexhaustible field of pearls, the length of which is more than twenty miles.

  Captain Nemo, Ned Land, Conseil, and I took our places in the stern of the boat. The master went to the tiller; his four companions leaned on their oars, the painter was cast off, and we sheered off.

  The boat went toward the south; the oarsmen did not hurry. I noticed that their strokes, strong in the water, only followed each other every ten seconds, according to the method generally adopted in the navy. While the craft was running by its own velocity, the liquid drops struck the dark depths of the waves crisply like spats of melted lead. A little billow, spreading wide, gave a slight roll to the boat, and some samphire reeds flapped before it.

  We were silent. What was Captain Nemo thinking of? Perhaps of the land he was approaching, and which he found too near to him, contrary to the Canadian’s opinion, who thought it too far off. As to Conseil, he was merely there from curiosity.

  About half-past five, the first tints on the horizon showed the upper line of coast more distinctly. Flat enough in the east, it rose a little to the south. Five miles still lay between us, and it was indistinct, owing to the mist on the water. At six o’clock it became suddenly daylight, with that rapidity peculiar to tropical regions, which know neither dawn nor twilight. The solar rays pierced the curtain of clouds piled up on the eastern horizon, and the radiant orb rose rapidly. I saw land distinctly, with a few trees scattered here and there. The boat neared Manaar Island, which was rounded to the south. Captain Nemo rose from his seat and watched the sea.

  At a sign from him the anchor was dropped, but the chain scarcely ran, for it was little more than a yard deep, and this spot was one of the highest points of the bank of pintadines.

  “Here we are, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo. “You see that inclosed bay? Here, in a month, will be assembled the numerous fishing-boats of the exporters, and these are the waters their divers will ransack so boldly. Happily, this bay is well situated for that kind of fishing. It is sheltered from the strongest winds; the sea is never very rough here, which makes it favorable for the diver’s work. We will now put on our dresses, and begin our walk.”

  I did not answer, and while watching the suspected waves, began with the help of the sailors to put on my heavy sea-dress. Captain Nemo and my companions were also dressing. None of the Nautilus men were to accompany us on this new excursion.

  Soon we were enveloped to the throat in India-rubber clothing; the air apparatus fixed to our backs by braces. As to the Ruhmkorff apparatus, there was no necessity for it. Before putting my head into the copper cap, I had asked the question of the captain.

  “They would be useless,” he replied. “We are going to no great depth, and the solar rays will be enough to light our walk. Besides, it would not be prudent to carry the electric light in these waters; its brilliancy might attract some of the dangerous inhabitants of the coast most inopportunely.”

  As Captain Nemo pronounced these words, I turned to Conseil and Ned Land. But my two friends had already incased their heads in the metal cap, and they could neither hear nor answer.

  One last question remained to ask of Captain Nemo.

  �
�And our arms?” asked I. “Our guns?”

  “Guns! What for? Do not mountaineers attack the bear with a dagger in their hand, and is not steel surer than lead? Here is a strong blade, put it in your belt, and we start.”

  I looked at my companions; they were armed like us, and, more than that, Ned Land was brandishing an enormous harpoon, which he had placed in the boat before leaving the Nautilus.

  Then, following the captain’s example, I allowed myself to be dressed in the heavy copper helmet, and our reservoirs of air were at once in activity. An instant after, we were landed, one after the other, in about two feet of water upon an even sand. Captain Nemo made a sign with his hand, and we followed him by a gentle declivity till we disappeared under the waves.

  Over our feet, like coveys of snipe in a bog, rose shoals of fish, of the genus monoptera, which have no other fins but their tail. I recognized the Javanese, a real serpent two and a half feet long, of a livid color underneath, and which might easily be mistaken for a conger eel if it was not for the golden stripes on its sides. In the genus stromateus, whose bodies are very flat and oval, I saw some of the most brilliant colors, carrying their dorsal fin like a scythe; an excellent eating fish, which, dried and pickled, is known by the name of karawade; then some tranquebars, belonging to the genus apsiphoroides, whose body is covered with a shell cuirass of eight longitudinal plates.

  The heightening sun lit the mass of waters more and more. The soil changed by degrees. To the fine sand succeeded a perfect causeway of boulders, covered with a carpet of mollusks and zoöphytes. Among the specimens of these branches I noticed some placenæ, with thin, unequal shells, a kind of ostracion peculiar to the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean; some orange lucinae with rounded shells; rock-fish three feet and a half long, which raised themselves under the waves like hands ready to seize one. There were also some panopyres, slightly luminous; and lastly, some oculines, like magnificent fans, forming one of the richest vegetations of these seas.