The Atlantic Ocean.
A vast expanse of water stretching across twenty-five million square miles, nearly nine thousand miles from end to end, with an average width of more than two thousand seven hundred miles.
It was the great ocean whose endless shores curved around the world, receiving the waters of the largest rivers on Earth—the St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, the Amazon, the Plata, the Orinoco, the Niger, the Senegal, the Elbe, the Loire, and the Rhine.
Those rivers carried the waters of countless lands, from the most advanced civilizations to the most remote and untouched regions.
What a magnificent world of water!
Ships from every nation crossed its surface. Flags of every country floated above its waves. Yet at its two ends stood the terrifying capes that every sailor feared—Cape Horn and the Cape of Storms.
The Nautilus cut through this immense ocean with its sharp steel prow.
In three and a half months, she had traveled nearly ten thousand leagues—a distance greater than the circumference of the Earth along a great circle.
Where were we heading now?
What strange events were waiting for us in the future?
After leaving the Strait of Gibraltar, the Nautilus had traveled far out into the open sea. Now she had returned to the surface, and we were once again allowed to take our daily walks on the platform.
I immediately went up, accompanied by Ned Land and Conseil.
About twelve miles away, Cape St. Vincent appeared faintly on the horizon. It marked the southwestern point of the Spanish peninsula.
A powerful wind was blowing from the south.
The sea was rough and swollen, sending waves crashing against the Nautilus. The submarine rocked violently, and it was almost impossible to stand steadily on the platform. Every moment, waves swept over the deck.
After taking a few breaths of fresh ocean air, we had no choice but to go back inside.
I returned to my room.
Conseil went back to his cabin.
But Ned Land followed me. His face showed deep concern.
Our quick journey through the Mediterranean had prevented him from carrying out his escape plan, and I could clearly see how disappointed he was.
When my door closed behind us, he sat down and looked at me silently.
“Friend Ned,” I said, “I understand what you are thinking. But you cannot blame yourself. Trying to escape from the Nautilus under those circumstances would have been foolish.”
Ned Land said nothing.
His tightly pressed lips and dark expression showed how strongly this idea had taken hold of him.
“Listen,” I continued. “We must not lose hope. We are moving along the coast of Portugal again. France and England are not far away, and we could easily find safety there.”
“If the Nautilus had turned south after leaving Gibraltar, if it had carried us toward endless oceans where no land existed, then I would understand your worries.”
“But now we know Captain Nemo is not avoiding civilized waters. In a few days, I believe you will have a much safer chance to act.”
Ned Land continued staring at me.
At last, his lips moved.
“Tonight,” he said.
I suddenly stood up.
I admit I was completely unprepared for those words.
I wanted to answer him, but for a moment I could not find my voice.
“We agreed to wait for the right opportunity,” Ned continued. “That opportunity has arrived.”
“Tonight we will only be a few miles from the Spanish coast. The sky is cloudy. The wind is favorable.”
“I have your promise, Monsieur Aronnax, and I am counting on you.”
I remained silent.
The Canadian stepped closer.
“At nine o’clock tonight,” he said. “I have already warned Conseil.”
“By then Captain Nemo will probably be locked inside his room, perhaps asleep. The engineers and sailors will not be able to see us.”
“Conseil and I will reach the central staircase. You, Monsieur Aronnax, will stay in the library, only a few steps away from us, and wait for my signal.”
“The boat already has the oars, the mast, and the sail. I have even managed to collect some food.”
“I also found an English wrench that can remove the bolts holding the boat to the side of the Nautilus.”
“Everything is ready. We only have to wait until tonight.”
“The sea is dangerous,” I said.
“I know,” replied Ned Land. “But we must take that risk.”
“Freedom always has a price.”
“Besides, the boat is strong. A few miles with a good wind behind us is nothing.”
“Who knows? By tomorrow we may already be a hundred leagues away.”
“If fortune favors us, by ten or eleven o’clock we will have reached land—alive or dead.”
“But now, goodbye until tonight.”
With those words, the Canadian left me.
I remained there almost speechless.
I had imagined that after our previous opportunity had disappeared, I would have enough time to think carefully and discuss the matter.
But Ned Land had given me no chance.
And after all, what could I have said to him?
He was right.
The opportunity was almost impossible to refuse.
Could I take back my promise?
Could I accept the responsibility of destroying the future hopes of my companions?
Tomorrow, Captain Nemo might take us far away from every shore.
At that moment, a loud hissing sound came from the ship.
The water tanks were filling.
The Nautilus was preparing to dive beneath the Atlantic waves.
I spent a terrible day.
My mind was torn between two desires.
One was the hope of regaining my freedom.
The other was the sadness of leaving this extraordinary submarine and abandoning my ocean studies before they were complete.
What painful hours followed!
Sometimes I imagined myself and my companions safely reaching land.
At other times, against all reason, I wished some unexpected event would prevent Ned Land’s plan from happening.
Twice I went to the saloon.
I wanted to check the compass.
I wanted to know whether the Nautilus was moving closer to the coast or farther away.
But there was no doubt.
The submarine was still traveling through Portuguese waters.
I had no choice.
I had to prepare for escape.
My belongings were few.
Only my notes mattered.
As for Captain Nemo, I wondered what he would think if we escaped.
What trouble would we cause him?
What would he do if our attempt was discovered?
And what would happen if we failed?
Certainly, I had no reason to complain about him.
No man had ever offered me more generous hospitality.
Leaving him could not honestly be called an act of betrayal.
No promise or oath bound us to remain.
He depended on circumstances—not on our word—to keep us aboard forever.
I had not seen Captain Nemo since our visit to the island of Santorin.
Would fate allow me to see him before leaving?
I wanted that.
Yet I feared it at the same time.
I listened carefully, hoping to hear his footsteps in the room beside mine.
But there was no sound.
An unbearable anxiety filled me.
That day seemed endless.
The hours passed painfully slowly.
Dinner was brought to my room as usual.
I barely touched the food.
My mind was elsewhere.
At seven o’clock I left the table.
One hundred and twenty minutes remained—I counted every one of them—before I was supposed to meet Ned Land.
My nervousness increased.
My heart beat faster.
I could not sit still.
I walked back and forth, hoping movement would calm my thoughts.
The possibility of our escape failing was not what frightened me most.
The worst thought was that we might be discovered before leaving the Nautilus.
What if Captain Nemo appeared before us?
What if he looked at me with anger?
Or worse—what if he looked at me with sadness because I had abandoned him?
That thought made my heart ache.
I wanted to see the saloon one last time.
I walked down the stairs and entered the museum where I had spent so many valuable and enjoyable hours.
I looked at all its treasures.
I looked at its countless wonders as a man might look upon his home before leaving forever.
These creations of nature.
These masterpieces of art.
Everything that had surrounded my life for so many days.
I was about to abandon it all.
Forever.
I wanted one final look through the saloon windows at the Atlantic Ocean.
But the panels were tightly closed.
A wall of steel separated me from the sea I had not yet finished exploring.
As I crossed the saloon, I passed near the door leading to Captain Nemo’s room.
To my surprise, it was slightly open.
I stepped back immediately.
If Captain Nemo were inside, he could see me.
But I heard nothing.
Slowly, I approached.
The room was empty.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Everything was exactly as before.
The same severe simplicity.
The same mysterious atmosphere.
Suddenly, the clock struck eight.
The first sound of the bell pulled me out of my thoughts.
I trembled as if some invisible force had discovered my deepest secrets.
I quickly left the room.
My eyes fell upon the compass.
Our course was still north.
The log showed moderate speed.
The pressure gauge indicated that we were about sixty feet below the surface.
I returned to my room.
I dressed warmly.
Sea boots.
An otter-skin cap.
A heavy coat made of byssus and lined with sealskin.
I was ready.
I could only wait.
The only sound aboard the Nautilus was the vibration of the screw.
I listened carefully.
Would a sudden cry announce that Ned Land had been discovered?
A terrible fear surrounded me.
I tried desperately to remain calm.
A few minutes before nine, I placed my ear against Captain Nemo’s door.
No sound.
I left my room and returned to the darkened saloon.
It was empty.
I opened the door leading to the library.
Again, there was only weak light and complete silence.
I stood near the entrance to the central staircase.
I waited for Ned Land’s signal.
At that moment, the vibration of the screw weakened.
Then it stopped completely.
The silence became absolute.
Only my own heartbeat disturbed it.
Suddenly, a slight shock passed through the ship.
I understood.
The Nautilus had stopped on the ocean floor.
My anxiety grew stronger.
Ned Land’s signal did not come.
For a moment, I wanted to rush to him and ask him to cancel the escape.
Something felt wrong.
We were not moving under normal conditions.
Then the door of the great saloon opened.
Captain Nemo appeared.
He saw me.
Without hesitation, he spoke in a friendly voice.
“Ah, Monsieur Aronnax! I have been looking for you.”
“Do you know the history of Spain?”
A person might know the history of his own country very well.
But at that moment, with my mind completely disturbed, I could not have answered even the simplest question.
“Well?” Captain Nemo continued. “You heard my question.”
“Do you know the history of Spain?”
“Only a little,” I replied.
“Then even scholars have something new to learn,” said Captain Nemo.
“Come, sit down. I will tell you a very interesting episode from history.”
“Listen carefully, Monsieur. This story will interest you because it will answer a question that you have probably never been able to solve.”
“I am listening, Captain,” I said.
I had no idea where he was leading this conversation.
I wondered whether this strange history lesson had something to do with our planned escape.
“Let us return to the year 1702,” Captain Nemo began.
“You know that your King Louis XIV believed he could control Spain simply by placing his grandson, the Duke of Anjou, on the Spanish throne.”
“This young prince became King Philip V, but many people opposed him.”
“The royal families of Holland, Austria, and England formed an alliance at The Hague. Their purpose was to remove Philip V and place an Austrian archduke on the throne, whom they had already named Charles III.”
“Spain had to resist this alliance.”
“But unfortunately, Spain had almost no army and almost no navy.”
“However, money was not the problem.”
“Soon, Spanish treasure fleets carrying gold and silver from America were expected to arrive.”
“France was protecting the convoy with twenty-three ships commanded by Admiral Chateau-Renaud.”
“The fleet was supposed to reach Cadiz.”
“But when the admiral heard that an English fleet was nearby, he decided to seek safety in a French port.”
“The Spanish commanders disagreed.”
“They wanted to reach a Spanish harbor.”
“If not Cadiz, then Vigo Bay, on the northwest coast of Spain, which was still open.”
“Admiral Chateau-Renaud made the mistake of accepting their request.”
“The treasure ships entered Vigo Bay.”
“Unfortunately, Vigo Bay was an open harbor that could not be properly defended.”
“They needed to unload the treasure quickly before the enemy arrived.”
“They would have had enough time.”
“But a terrible argument suddenly appeared.”
Captain Nemo looked at me.
“Are you following the events?”
“Perfectly,” I answered.
I still did not understand his purpose.
“I will continue,” he said.
“The merchants of Cadiz had special rights. They alone were allowed to receive goods arriving from the West Indies.”
“If the treasure was unloaded at Vigo, their privilege would disappear.”
“They protested to Madrid.”
“Philip V, who was weak and uncertain, agreed with them.”
“He ordered that the treasure fleet remain in Vigo Bay without unloading until the enemy disappeared.”
“But on October 22, 1702, while this decision was being made, the English fleet arrived.”
“Admiral Chateau-Renaud fought bravely, even though his forces were weaker.”
“But when he realized the treasure would fall into enemy hands, he burned and sank every ship.”
“The great galleons disappeared beneath the waves with their enormous riches.”
Captain Nemo stopped speaking.
I still did not understand why this story mattered.
“Well?” I asked.
“Well, Monsieur Aronnax,” he replied, “we are in Vigo Bay.”
“And it is your choice whether you wish to discover its secrets.”
Captain Nemo stood up.
He motioned for me to follow.
By then, I had recovered from my confusion.
I followed him.
The saloon was dark.
But through the transparent glass, I could see the shining water outside.
I looked.
Around the Nautilus, for half a mile in every direction, the ocean seemed filled with blue-white electric light.
The sandy bottom was clear and bright.
Several members of the crew, wearing diving suits, were removing rotten barrels and broken boxes from the remains of blackened shipwrecks.
From those broken containers came gold bars and silver ingots.
Coins flowed like waterfalls.
Jewels glittered among the sand.
The seabed was covered with treasure.
The divers returned to the Nautilus, unloaded their precious cargo, and immediately went back for more.
Only then did I understand.
This was the battlefield of October 22, 1702.
Right here, beneath us, the Spanish treasure ships had sunk.
Here Captain Nemo came whenever he needed wealth.
Here he collected the millions that filled the Nautilus.
America had surrendered its treasures to him.
He was the sole heir to riches taken from the Incas and from the conquered lands of Ferdinand Cortés.
“Did you know, Monsieur,” Captain Nemo asked with a smile, “that the sea contained such wealth?”
“I knew,” I answered, “that the treasures hidden in these waters were estimated at two million.”
“Perhaps,” he said.
“But recovering them would cost more than they are worth.”
“Here, however, I only collect what mankind has already lost.”
“And not only in Vigo Bay.”
“There are thousands of other ports where ships have sunk, and every one of them is marked on my underwater maps.”
“Now do you understand where my fortune comes from?”
“I understand, Captain.”
“But allow me to say that you have arrived before another group that also hopes to find these treasures.”
“Which group?”
“A company that received permission from the Spanish government to search for these sunken ships.”
“The investors expect enormous profits because they believe these wrecks contain five hundred million.”
“Five hundred million they once contained,” Captain Nemo replied.
“But they do not anymore.”
“Exactly,” I said.
“And perhaps warning those investors would be an act of kindness.”
“Though I doubt they would appreciate it.”
“People who gamble often regret not the loss of their money, but the loss of their foolish dreams.”
“Still, I feel more pity for the thousands of people who could have benefited from such wealth if it had been used wisely.”
My words seemed to hurt Captain Nemo.
“Used wisely?” he exclaimed.
“Do you believe these riches are wasted because I collect them?”
“Do you think I gather these treasures only for myself?”
“Who told you that I do not use them for a greater purpose?”
“Do you think I do not know that there are suffering people in this world?”
“Oppressed nations.”
“Poor creatures who need help.”
“Victims who deserve justice.”
“Do you not understand?”
Captain Nemo stopped.
Perhaps he regretted saying too much.
But I finally understood something.
Whatever had forced him to seek independence beneath the waves, it had not destroyed his humanity.
His heart still responded to the suffering of others.
His immense wealth was not meant only for himself.
It was meant for oppressed peoples and unfortunate individuals.
And now I understood who had received those millions that Captain Nemo had sent away when the Nautilus was traveling through the waters near Crete.