by Jules Verne
Right from the start I was surprised by the highly distinctive smell filling the room.
Captain Nemo noticed my reaction.
‘There are a few gas discharges because sodium is being used; but they are only a slight inconvenience. In any case, we ventilate the ship in the open air every morning.’
While he was talking, I examined the machinery of the Nautilus with an interest easy to comprehend.
‘You can see that I use Bunsen batteries rather than Ruhmkorff * ones. Ruhmkorff batteries would not produce the same output. Being massive and powerful, not so many Bunsen ones are needed, and I have found that they form a better choice. The electricity produced goes to the rear, where, via huge electromagnets, it acts on a special system of levers and gears which transmit their motion to the propeller shaft. The diameter of the propeller is 6 metres with a total pitch of 7½ metres, which can produce up to 120 revolutions per second.’*
‘Giving . . .?’
‘A speed of 50 knots.’*
There was still a mystery here, but I did not insist on trying to solve it. How could electricity possibly act with such power? Where did this almost unlimited force come from? Was it obtained from a new kind of coil of extremely high voltage? Could it come from the transmission being increased indefinitely through a system of unknown levers?1 This was what I could not understand.
‘Captain Nemo, I note the results and will not attempt to find an explanation for them. I saw the Nautilus manoeuvring near the Abraham Lincoln, and I know what sort of speed we are talking about. But that is not everything. You need to know where you’re going! And you need to be able to move right or left, up or down. How do you reach the great depths, where you must encounter an increasing resistance, amounting to hundreds of atmospheres? How do you come back up to the surface? And how do you stay in one particular place? Or am I being indiscreet by asking all these questions?’
‘Not at all, sir,’ replied the captain after a moment’s hesitation, ‘since you are never to leave this submarine vessel. Come into the salon. It is our real study and there you will learn all you wish to know about the Nautilus.’
1 In fact there is talk at the moment of a discovery of this sort in which a new set of levers produces considerable force. So has its inventor met Captain Nemo? [JV]
13
A Few Figures
A moment later, we were sitting on a divan in the salon, smoking cigars. The captain laid before me a blueprint containing the floor plan, section, and elevation of the Nautilus. Then he began his description:
‘The various dimensions of the ship you are on are as follows. It is a long cylinder with conical ends.* Its shape is quite close to that of a cigar, a design already adopted in London for several constructions of the same type. The cylinder measures exactly 70 metres from end to end, and its beam is 8 metres at its widest point. It is not, therefore, constructed on an exact ratio of ten to one like your high-speed steamships, but its lines are sufficiently long and its run extensive enough for the displaced water to escape easily and to provide no obstacle to headway.
‘These two measurements allow you to calculate the surface area and volume of the Nautilus.* Its surface area is 1,011.45 square metres, its volume 1,507.2 cubic metres* — which is the same as saying that, when completely submerged, it displaces 1,500 cubic metres or weighs 1,500 tons.
‘When I drew up the plans for this ship, designed as you know for submarine navigation, I wanted it to be nine-tenths submerged when in equilibrium in the water, with only a tenth above the surface. In other words, it had to displace nine-tenths of its volume, or 1,356.48 cubic metres, and so had to weigh 1,356.48 tons. This weight was to be the maximum when I constructed the ship to the above dimensions.
‘The Nautilus has two hulls, one inside the other, joined by T-bars which give it very great strength. Thanks to this modular construction, it has the same resistance as a solid block. Its plating cannot give; it holds together by virtue of its construction and not through the tightness of the rivets; and its unified construction, thanks to the perfect assembly of the materials, allows it to defy the most violent seas.
‘The two hulls are constructed from steel plate with a density 7.8 times that of water. The first hull is no less than 5 centimetres thick, and weighs 394.96 tons. The keel alone, which is 50 centimetres high by 25 centimetres wide, weighs 62 tons; and the total weight of the keel, the second hull, the engine, the ballast, the various fixtures and fittings, and the bulkheads and internal braces is 961.62 tons, which, when added to the 394.96, gives the required total of 1,356.48 tons. Am I clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ I replied.
‘So when the Nautilus is floating in equilibrium, a tenth of it emerges from the water. Now if I have arranged tanks of a capacity equal to this one-tenth, in other words holding 150.72 tons, and if I fill the tanks with water, the boat will then weigh and consequently displace 1,507 tons, and will be completely submerged. And this is what happens in actual practice. The tanks are placed very near the sides of the lower part of the Nautilus. I open the taps, the tanks fill, and the boat sinks until it is just touching the surface of the water.’
‘Fine, captain, but now we are approaching the real difficulty. I understand how you can be just touching the surface of the ocean. But when it dives, isn’t your submarine craft going to encounter a pressure and consequently an upwards impulse of 1 atmosphere for each 30 feet of water it goes down, or about 1 kilogram per square centimetre?’
‘Absolutely, sir.’
‘So unless you fill the Nautilus entirely, I do not see how you can make it go down into the depths.’
‘Dr Aronnax,’ replied Captain Nemo, ‘one must not confuse statics with dynamics, for that can lead to serious errors. Very little effort is required to reach the lower levels of the ocean, for bodies have a tendency to sink. Please follow my reasoning.’
‘I am listening, captain.’
‘When I wished to determine the increase in weight the Nautilus would require to dive, my only concern was the progressive reduction in volume that sea water experiences as it becomes deeper.’
‘Clearly.’
‘Now although water is not completely incompressible, it is very hard to compress. Indeed, according to the most recent calculations, the reduction is only 436/10,000,000ths per atmosphere of pressure, or for each 30 feet down. So if I wish to reach a depth of 1,000 metres, I need to take into account the reduction of volume due to a pressure equivalent to a column of water 1,000 metres high, that is at a pressure of 100 atmospheres.* This reduction will then be 436/100,000ths. I must therefore increase the weight so as to displace 1,513.77 tons instead of 1,507.2. The increase will consequently be only 6.57 tons.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Yes, Dr Aronnax, and the calculation can easily be checked. Now I have auxiliary tanks with a capacity of 100 tons. I can therefore descend to considerable depths. When I wish to come back up to the surface and stay there, all I have to do is expel the water by emptying all the tanks if I want the Nautilus to have a tenth of its total volume out of the water again.’
Given these figures, I had no objections to make against this reasoning: ‘I accept your calculations, captain, and would appear foolish to contest them, since experience proves them daily. But I am now faced with one real difficulty . . .’
‘Which is, sir?’
‘When you are at a depth of 1,000 metres, the hull of the Nautilus undergoes a pressure of 100 atmospheres. If you wish at this moment to empty the auxiliary tanks so as to lighten your boat and head back up to the surface, the pumps will need to overcome a pressure of 100 atmospheres, i.e. 100 kilograms per square centimetre. Hence a power . . .’
‘That only electricity can give,’ interjected Captain Nemo. ‘I repeat, sir, that the dynamic power of my machines is almost infinite. The pumps of the Nautilus have a prodigious strength, as you must have seen when the jets of water fell like a torrent on the Abraham Lincoln. In any case, I use the e
xtra tanks only to go down to about 1,500 or 2,000 metres, in order to economize on my engines. When the desire takes me to visit the deeps of the ocean, perhaps two or three leagues down, I use methods that take longer but are just as reliable.’
‘Namely, captain?’
‘This leads me logically to explain how I steer the Nautilus.’
‘I’m impatient to hear.’
‘To direct the ship to starboard or to port, that is to steer it in the horizontal plane, I use an ordinary rudder with a long blade attached to the back of the stern post, operated by a wheel and tackle. But I can also make the Nautilus move in the vertical direction by means of two inclined planes attached to the vessel’s sides at its centre of flotation. These planes can be set in any position, and they are operated from inside by means of powerful levers. If the planes are kept parallel to the vessel, it will move horizontally. If they are inclined, then, according to their angle and the thrust of the propeller, the Nautilus dives or climbs on a diagonal of my choosing. But if I want to come up to the surface more quickly, I force the propeller which, with the water pressure, makes the Nautilus rise like a hydrogen-filled balloon climbing swiftly through the air.’
‘Bravo, captain!’ I exclaimed. ‘But how does the pilot follow the course that you tell him?’
‘The pilot is housed in an enclosure protruding from the top of the Nautilus’s hull, with windows shaped like lenses.’
‘Capable of resisting such pressures?’
‘Yes. Although crystal is fragile when subject to blows, it generally offers considerable resistance. In experiments involving fishing with electric lights carried out in the heart of the northern seas in 1864, plates of glass only 7 millimetres thick were able to withstand a pressure of 16 atmospheres, while at the same time allowing the beams to pass through to dissipate the heat. Now the glass I use is never less than 21 centimetres thick at its centre, that is thirty times as thick.’
‘All right, Captain Nemo, but to be able to see in the first place, there must be light to dispel the gloom, and I wonder how in the midst of the dark waters . . .’
‘Behind the pilot-house is a powerful electric reflector, whose beam can illuminate the sea for half a mile.’
‘Oh congratulations, captain, heartiest congratulations! Now I understand the phosphorescence from the supposed narwhal which so intrigued scientists! And while on the subject, could you possibly tell me whether the collision between the Nautilus and the Scotia, which caused such a stir, was the result of an accident?’
‘A pure accident, sir. I was sailing 2 metres below the surface when the impact occurred. I saw in any case that no serious damage had been done.’
‘None, sir. But as for your encounter with the Abraham Lincoln . . .?’
‘Dr Aronnax, I am sorry this had to happen to one of the best ships of the fine American Navy, but I was being attacked and I had to defend myself! I did no more, all the same, than putting the frigate in such a condition that it could no longer do me any damage — it will not be difficult to repair at the nearest port.’
‘Ah, captain,’ I cried with conviction, ‘your Nautilus is truly a magnificent ship!’
‘Yes, sir,’ responded Captain Nemo with genuine emotion, ‘and I love it like the flesh of my flesh!* Now everything seems dangerous for one of your ships subject to the hazards of the ocean, for the first impression when on the sea is that of feeling the abyss below one, as the Dutchman Jansen* so well put it. But on board the submerged Nautilus, people can set their heart at ease. There is no change in the shape of the ship to worry about, for the double hull is as strong as iron; no rigging to be strained by rolling and pitching; no sails for the wind to carry off; no boilers for the steam to tear to pieces; no danger of fire, for this vessel is made of metal, not wood; no coal to run out, for it is powered by electricity; no collision to be feared, since it is the only craft to navigate these deep waters; and no storms to endure, since it is a few metres below the surface and hence in absolute tranquillity! Yes, it is the ultimate ship! And if the engineer has more confidence in his ship than its builder, and the builder more than the captain, you can understand with what entire confidence I entrusted myself to the Nautilus, since I am at one and the same time the captain, the builder, and the engineer!’
Captain Nemo was speaking with a captivating eloquence. The fire in his eyes and the passion in his gestures transformed him. He loved the ship like a father loves his child!
But one question, perhaps indiscreet, impulsively occurred to me, and I could not resist asking it.
‘Are you an engineer then, Captain Nemo?’
‘I am. I studied in London, Paris, and New York when I lived on dry land.’
‘But how did you construct this superb Nautilus in secret?’
‘Each of its components, Dr Aronnax, was sent to me from a different point on the globe via a forwarding address. Its keel was forged by Le Creusot, its propeller shaft by Penn and Co. of London, the iron plates for its hull by Laird’s of Liverpool, and the propeller itself by Scott and Co. of Glasgow. Its tanks were constructed by Cail & Co. of Paris, its engine by Krupp of Prussia, its ram by the workshops at Motala in Sweden, its precision instruments by Hart Brothers of New York,* and so on; with each of the suppliers receiving my plans under a different name.’
‘But’, I countered, ‘once these pieces had been manufactured, they still had to be assembled and adjusted?’
‘I set up my workshops on a small desert island in mid-ocean. There with my workmen, that is my good companions whom I instructed and trained, I completed our Nautilus. Then once the work was over, fire destroyed any trace of our presence on the island, which I would have blown up had I been able.’
‘So one can deduce that the cost of the ship was extremely high?’
‘Dr Aronnax, an iron ship costs 1,125 francs per ton. Now the Nautilus displaces 1,500 tons. Its cost was therefore 1,687,500 francs,* about two million if you include the fitting out, or four or five million with the works of art and other collections it contains.’
‘One last question, Captain Nemo.’
‘Go on.’
‘You must be very well off then?’
‘Immeasurably, sir, and without undue difficulty I could pay off the ten billion francs of France’s debts!’*
I stared at the peculiar person speaking like that. Was he abusing my credulity? Only time would tell.
14
The Black River
The area of the terrestrial globe covered by water is estimated to be 383,255,800 square kilometres, or more than 38 million hectares.* This liquid mass occupies 2,250 million cubic miles and would form a sphere of 60 leagues diameter, whose weight would be three quadrillion tons. To understand this number, it should be pointed out that a quadrillion is to a billion as a billion is to one, i.e. it is a billion billion. This quantity is approximately equivalent to the water that all the rivers on earth would produce over forty thousand years.
In past geological eras, the period of fire was followed by the period of water. At first there was nothing but ocean. Then, in the Silurian Period, mountain tops began to appear, islands emerged and disappeared again in incomplete floods, then surfaced once more, next joined together and formed landmasses; and finally the land settled down in the geographical locations we are familiar with. The liquid was forced to give up 37,000,657 square miles to solid ground, that is 12,916,000,000 hectares.
The forms of the continents allow the sea to be divided into five main areas: the Arctic, the Antarctic, the Indian, the Atlantic, and the Pacific oceans.
The Pacific extends from north to south between the two polar circles, and west to east between Asia and America, comprising 145 degrees of longitude. It is the most tranquil of seas; its currents are broad and slow, its tides minimal, its rainfall abundant. Such was the first ocean that destiny had called me to crisscross, in the strangest of circumstances.
‘If you wish, sir,’ Captain Nemo said to me, ‘we can determ
ine our exact position and thus the starting-point of our voyage. It is quarter to twelve. I am going to return to the surface.’
The captain rang an electric bell three times. The pumps began to expel water from the tanks; the needle of the pressure-gauge showed the changing pressure and hence the upward movement of the Nautilus, but finally stabilized.
‘We’re there,’ said the captain. I headed for the central staircase leading to the platform. I went up the metal steps, through the open hatch, and out on to the top of the Nautilus.
The platform was only 80 centimetres above the water. The bow and stern of the Nautilus were spindle-shaped, making it resemble a long cigar. I noticed that its metal plates overlapped slightly,* like the scales which cover the bodies of great land reptiles. I therefore understood full well how this boat had invariably been taken for a marine animal, in spite of the best telescopes.
Near the middle of the platform, the ship’s boat formed a bulge where it was half recessed in the hull of the ship. Fore and aft were structures with angled sides, of moderate height, partially covered by thick glass lenses: one of them for the pilot who steered the Nautilus, the other for the powerful electric light to illuminate the route.
The sky was clear, the sea magnificent. The long vessel was hardly affected by the broad undulations of the ocean. A light easterly breeze ruffled the surface of the water. The horizon, free of mist, allowed perfect observation.
There was nothing in sight. Not a reef, not the tiniest of islands. The Abraham Lincoln had disappeared. An immense desert.
Captain Nemo, equipped with his sextant, was about to measure the height of the sun in order to calculate the latitude. He waited for the sun to move and touch the edge of the visible horizon as viewed through his sextant. While he watched not one muscle moved, and the instrument would not have been held steadier by a hand of marble.
‘Twelve noon,’ he said. ‘Dr Aronnax, whenever you wish . . .?’
I scanned the slightly yellowish seas off the Japanese coast one last time, and went back down to the salon.