On February 28, when the Nautilus rose to the surface at noon, we were at 9°4′ north latitude. About eight miles to the west, land appeared on the horizon.
The first thing I noticed was a line of mountains rising about two thousand feet high. Their shapes were strange and wonderfully varied.
After checking our position, I realized we were approaching the island of Ceylon, the beautiful pearl hanging from the edge of the Indian Peninsula.
At that moment, Captain Nemo and his second officer came onto the deck.
The Captain looked carefully at the map.
Then he turned to me.
“Ceylon is famous for its pearl fisheries,” he said. “Would you like to visit one of them, Monsieur Aronnax?”
“Certainly, Captain.”
“Then it will be easy. However, if we visit the fishing grounds, we will not see the fishermen at their usual work. The yearly pearl harvest has not yet begun. But no matter. I will order the Nautilus to head toward the Gulf of Manaar. We will arrive there during the night.”
Captain Nemo spoke a few words to his second officer, who immediately left.
Soon, the Nautilus returned to her underwater world, and the pressure gauge showed that we were about thirty feet below the surface.
“Well, Monsieur Aronnax,” Captain Nemo said, “you and your companions will visit the Manaar Bank. If some fishermen happen to be there, perhaps you will see them working.”
“Agreed, Captain.”
“By the way, Monsieur Aronnax, are you afraid of sharks?”
“Sharks!” I cried.
The question caught me completely off guard.
“Well?” Captain Nemo asked.
“I admit, Captain, that I am not very familiar with those creatures.”
“We are used to them,” Captain Nemo replied. “And soon you will be as well. Still, we will be armed, and perhaps along the way we may even hunt a few of them. It can be an interesting experience.”
“Until tomorrow, then, Monsieur. We shall leave early.”
With those words, Captain Nemo casually left the saloon.
But imagine being invited to hunt bears in the mountains of Switzerland. What would you say?
“Very well! Tomorrow we shall hunt bears.”
Or imagine being invited to hunt lions on the plains of North Africa, or tigers in the jungles of India.
You might laugh and say:
“Ha! So we are going hunting lions or tigers!”
But when someone invites you to hunt sharks in their own world—the depths of the sea—you would probably think twice before accepting.
As for me, I wiped my forehead. Large drops of cold sweat had appeared there.
“Let us think carefully,” I said to myself. “Hunting sea otters in the underwater forests of Crespo Island was one thing. But walking along the bottom of the ocean, where sharks are almost certain to appear, is something completely different.”
I knew that in some places, especially near the Andaman Islands, local divers fearlessly attacked sharks with a dagger in one hand and a rope noose in the other.
But I also knew that few people who challenged these creatures ever returned safely.
Besides, I was not an experienced native diver. And even if I had been one, a little hesitation in such a situation would have been perfectly reasonable.
At that moment, Conseil and the Canadian entered the room.
They looked completely calm—even excited.
They had no idea what awaited them.
“By heaven, sir,” Ned Land said, “your Captain Nemo—the devil take him!—has just made us a very interesting offer.”
“Ah!” I replied. “You already know?”
“If it pleases you, sir,” Conseil interrupted, “the commander of the Nautilus has invited us to visit the magnificent Ceylon pearl fisheries tomorrow with you. He was very polite about it and acted like a true gentleman.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Nothing more, sir, except that he had already told you about this little expedition.”
“Sir,” Conseil said, “could you give us some information about pearl fishing?”
“About the fishing itself,” I asked, “or about the dangers and experiences involved?”
“About the fishing,” the Canadian replied. “Before we visit the place, it would be useful to understand how it works.”
“Very well. Sit down, my friends, and I will explain.”
Ned and Conseil sat on a small sofa.
The first question from the Canadian was:
“Sir, what exactly is a pearl?”
“My dear Ned,” I answered, “that depends on who you ask.”
“To a poet, a pearl is a tear shed by the ocean.”
“To people in the East, it is a drop of dew that has become solid.”
“To a woman, it is a beautiful jewel with a smooth, shining surface, worn on fingers, around the neck, or in the ears.”
“To a chemist, it is a substance made mainly of calcium phosphate and calcium carbonate, mixed with a little gelatin.”
“And to a naturalist, it is simply an unusual secretion produced by the same organ that creates mother-of-pearl inside certain shellfish.”
“A branch of mollusks,” Conseil added.
“Exactly, my learned Conseil. Among these shellfish, many creatures that produce mother-of-pearl are capable of forming pearls. This includes the abalone, giant clams, and many others whose shells contain that beautiful inner layer of blue, violet, silver, or white.”
“What about mussels?” Ned asked.
“Yes, certain freshwater mussels from Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony, Bohemia, and France can also produce pearls.”
“Good,” Ned said. “I will remember that.”
“But,” I continued, “the true pearl-producing creature is the pearl oyster, scientifically known as Meleagrina margaritifera. The pearl is simply a formation of nacre created inside the oyster.”
“If it is attached to the shell, it remains fixed. If it forms inside the animal’s body, it moves freely.”
“In every case, however, there is usually a small object at the center—a tiny grain of sand, a small foreign particle, or perhaps an undeveloped egg. Layer after layer of nacre builds around it over many years, creating the pearl.”
“Can one oyster contain many pearls?” Conseil asked.
“Yes, my boy. Some oysters are like treasure boxes. There is even a story of one oyster containing as many as one hundred and fifty pearls, although I admit I do not completely believe it.”
“One hundred and fifty sharks!” Ned shouted.
“Pearls!” I quickly corrected myself. “I said pearls, not sharks. A hundred and fifty sharks would make no sense.”
“Certainly not,” Conseil agreed.
“But now tell us,” he continued, “how do people remove the pearls?”
“There are several methods. When pearls are attached to the shell, fishermen often remove them with special tools.”
“But the most common method is different. They place the oysters on seaweed-covered mats and leave them exposed to the air.”
“The oysters die there. After about ten days, they begin to decay. Then they are placed into large tanks of seawater, opened, and washed carefully.”
“Does the value of a pearl depend only on its size?” Conseil asked.
“No,” I replied. “Size is only one factor. Shape, color, and brilliance are equally important.”
“The most beautiful pearls are called perfect pearls. They form freely inside the oyster’s tissue. They are usually white, sometimes slightly transparent like an opal, and often perfectly round or oval.”
“Round pearls are usually made into bracelets. Oval pearls are used for pendants because they are rarer and more valuable.”
“Pearls attached to the shell are less regular in shape, so they are usually sold by weight.”
“Finally, there are tiny pearls called seed pearls. They are sold by measurement and are often used for embroidery, especially on religious decorations.”
“But,” Conseil asked, “is pearl fishing dangerous?”
“No,” I answered quickly. “Not especially, as long as proper precautions are taken.”
“What danger does a pearl fisherman face?” Ned asked. “Swallowing a few mouthfuls of seawater?”
“Exactly,” I said.
Then, trying to imitate Captain Nemo’s calm attitude, I asked:
“By the way, brave Ned, are you afraid of sharks?”
“Me?” the Canadian replied. “A professional harpooner? Making light of sharks is part of my job.”
“But,” I said, “this is not ordinary shark hunting.”
“It is not a matter of catching them with a harpoon, pulling them onto a ship, cutting off their tails with an axe, opening them up, and throwing their hearts into the sea.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Facing them directly.”
“In the water?”
“In the water.”
“Well,” Ned said, “with a good harpoon, perhaps it is possible.”
“You know, sir, sharks are strange creatures. They turn over on their backs when they attack, and during that moment…”
The way Ned said the word “attack” sent a chill through me.
“And what do you think, Conseil?” I asked. “How do you feel about sharks?”
“Me?” Conseil replied. “I will answer honestly, sir.”
“Good,” I thought.
“If you, sir, intend to face sharks,” he continued, “I do not see why your faithful servant should not face them beside you.”