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Updated: May 17, 2025
The hatches weren't open. So the air inside hadn't been renewed; but the air tanks were kept full for any eventuality and would function appropriately to shoot a few cubic meters of oxygen into the Nautilus's thin atmosphere. I worked in my stateroom until noon without seeing Captain Nemo even for an instant. Nobody on board seemed to be making any preparations for departure.
The lounge is at your disposal, and with your permission, I'll take my leave." Captain Nemo bowed. I was left to myself, lost in my thoughts. They all centered on the Nautilus's commander. Would I ever learn the nationality of this eccentric man who had boasted of having none? His sworn hate for humanity, a hate that perhaps was bent on some dreadful revenge what had provoked it?
Then the propeller was brought to its maximum speed, and its four blades churned the waves with indescribable violence. Under this powerful thrust the Nautilus's hull quivered like a resonating chord, and the ship sank steadily under the waters. Stationed in the lounge, the captain and I watched the needle swerving swiftly over the pressure gauge.
These forests aren't on land, they're actual underwater forests." "Underwater forests!" I exclaimed. "Yes, professor." "And you're offering to take me to them?" "Precisely." "On foot?" "Without getting your feet wet." "While hunting?" "While hunting." "Rifles in hand?" "Rifles in hand." I stared at the Nautilus's commander with an air anything but flattering to the man.
"What's that, sir?" "Tomorrow at about this time, we'll need to reopen the hatches to renew the Nautilus's air." "No argument, sir, since our craft breathes in the manner favored by cetaceans." "But if these Papuans are occupying the platform at that moment, I don't see how you can prevent them from entering." "Then, sir, you assume they'll board the ship?" "I'm certain of it."
"I accept your calculations, captain," I replied, "and I'd be ill-mannered to dispute them, since your daily experience bears them out. But at this juncture, I have a hunch that we're still left with one real difficulty." "What's that, sir?" "When you're at a depth of 1,000 meters, the Nautilus's plating bears a pressure of 100 atmospheres.
Supervising our work, working himself, Captain Nemo passed near me just then. I touched him with my hand and pointed to the walls of our prison. The starboard wall had moved forward to a point less than four meters from the Nautilus's hull. The captain understood and gave me a signal to follow him. We returned on board. My diving suit removed, I went with him to the lounge.
Near midnight, seeing that all was quiet over the darkened waves as well as under the waterside trees, I repaired to my cabin and fell into a peaceful sleep. The night passed without mishap. No doubt the Papuans had been frightened off by the mere sight of this monster aground in the bay, because our hatches stayed open, offering easy access to the Nautilus's interior.
I wanted to see if the Nautilus's heading was actually taking us closer to the coast or spiriting us farther away. But no. The Nautilus was still in Portuguese waters. Heading north, it was cruising along the ocean's beaches. So I had to resign myself to my fate and get ready to escape. My baggage wasn't heavy. My notes, nothing more.
He and his companions were replaced by new workmen, including Conseil and me. The Nautilus's chief officer supervised us. The water struck me as unusually cold, but I warmed up promptly while wielding my pick. My movements were quite free, although they were executed under a pressure of thirty atmospheres.
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