The terrible scene disappeared as the panels of the Nautilus closed.
But the lights in the saloon did not return.
Inside the submarine, everything was silent and dark.
The Nautilus rushed away from that ruined place at incredible speed, moving about thirty meters beneath the ocean’s surface.
I wondered where Captain Nemo was taking us.
Was he heading north or south?
Where was this man going after carrying out such terrible revenge?
I returned to my room.
Ned and Conseil were there, but neither of them spoke.
I felt an overwhelming horror toward Captain Nemo.
Whatever suffering those men had caused him, he had no right to punish them in such a way.
He had forced me to become, if not his accomplice, at least a witness to his revenge.
At eleven o’clock, the electric lights came back on.
I went into the saloon.
It was empty.
I checked the instruments.
The Nautilus was moving north at a terrifying speed of nearly twenty-five miles per hour.
Sometimes it traveled on the surface, sometimes thirty feet below.
Looking at the charts, I realized we were passing the entrance of the English Channel.
Our course was taking us rapidly toward the northern seas.
That night alone, we crossed more than two hundred leagues of the Atlantic Ocean.
Darkness covered the sea until the moon rose.
I returned to my room, but sleep would not come.
My mind was filled with terrible nightmares.
The image of that horrifying destruction appeared before my eyes again and again.
From that moment on, who could know where the Nautilus would take us?
It continued forward with impossible speed.
It entered deeper and deeper into the northern fog.
Would we reach Spitzbergen?
Would we arrive at the shores of Nova Zembla?
Would we explore those unknown seas—the White Sea, the Kara Sea, the Gulf of Obi, the islands of the Arctic Ocean, and the mysterious coasts of Asia?
I had no answer.
I could no longer measure the passing of time.
The clocks on board had stopped.
It felt as if we had entered a world like the polar regions, where day and night no longer followed their normal rhythm.
I felt myself being pulled into a strange realm, like the mysterious worlds imagined by Edgar Allan Poe.
Like the character Gordon Pym, I expected at any moment to see some enormous hidden figure standing beyond the frozen waters at the edge of the unknown.
I estimated that this incredible journey of the Nautilus lasted fifteen or twenty days.
Perhaps it would have continued much longer if another disaster had not finally ended our voyage.
During this time, I saw nothing of Captain Nemo.
His second-in-command was also absent.
Not a single crew member appeared.
The Nautilus remained underwater almost constantly.
Whenever it rose to renew its air supply, the panels opened and closed automatically.
No new marks appeared on the map.
I had no idea where we were.
Even Ned Land had lost all his strength and patience.
He disappeared from sight.
Conseil could not get a single word from him.
Fearing that Ned might lose control and harm himself, Conseil watched over him with endless care.
One morning—I no longer knew the date—I fell into a deep and painful sleep.
It was early in the morning when I suddenly woke up.
Ned Land was leaning over me.
In a low voice, he whispered:
“We are going to escape.”
I sat up immediately.
“When?” I asked.
“Tonight,” he replied.
“The crew seems to have stopped watching everything on board the Nautilus. Everyone appears exhausted and confused. Will you be ready?”
“Yes.”
“Where are we?”
“Near land. I checked our position this morning through the fog. We are about twenty miles from shore.”
“What country is it?”
“I don’t know. But wherever it is, we will escape there.”
“Yes, Ned. We will leave tonight, even if the sea kills us.”
“The sea is dangerous, and the wind is strong. But traveling twenty miles in the small boat of the Nautilus does not frighten me.”
“I have secretly collected some food and bottles of water.”
“I will go with you.”
“But,” Ned continued, “if they discover us, I will fight. I will force them to kill me rather than remain here.”
“We will die together, my friend Ned.”
I had already made my decision.
Ned left.
I went up to the platform, where I could barely stand because of the violent waves.
The sky looked threatening.
But if land was hidden somewhere beyond those dark clouds and thick fog, we had to try.
I returned to the saloon.
Part of me feared seeing Captain Nemo.
Another part of me wanted to see him.
But what could I possibly say?
Could I hide the horror I felt toward him?
No.
It was better not to face him again.
Better to forget him.
And yet…
How slowly that final day aboard the Nautilus passed.
I remained alone.
Ned Land and Conseil avoided speaking because they feared revealing our plan.
At six o’clock, I ate dinner.
I had no appetite.
But I forced myself to eat because I needed strength.
At half past six, Ned came to my room.
“We will not see each other again before we leave,” he said.
“The moon will not rise until ten o’clock. We will use the darkness.”
“Come to the boat then. Conseil and I will wait for you.”
Before I could answer, Ned left.
I wanted to check the direction of the Nautilus, so I went to the saloon.
The submarine was moving northeast at frightening speed, more than fifty yards beneath the sea.
I looked one final time at this extraordinary world.
The natural wonders.
The priceless treasures collected inside this underwater museum.
The unmatched collection that was destined to disappear forever beneath the ocean with the man who created it.
I wanted to keep every detail forever in my memory.
For an hour, I stood beneath the glowing ceiling, looking at the treasures shining behind their glass cases.
Then I returned to my room.
I put on strong clothing suitable for the sea.
I gathered my notes and carefully placed them around me.
My heart was beating violently.
I could not control my fear and excitement.
Certainly, Captain Nemo would have noticed my nervousness if he saw me.
What was he doing at that moment?
I listened near the door of his room.
I heard footsteps.
Captain Nemo was inside.
He had not gone to sleep.
At any moment, I expected him to appear.
I imagined him asking:
“Why are you trying to escape?”
I remained tense and alert.
My imagination made every sound seem dangerous.
Finally, the pressure became unbearable.
I wondered if I should go directly to Captain Nemo’s room.
I imagined standing before him and facing him openly.
It was a foolish idea.
Fortunately, I resisted.
I lay down on my bed, trying to calm myself.
My body became quieter, but my mind remained trapped in memories.
I saw my entire life aboard the Nautilus again.
Every event, every joy, every disaster since I disappeared from the Abraham Lincoln:
The hunt beneath the sea.
The Torres Strait.
The natives of Papua.
The shipwreck on the reefs.
The coral cemetery.
The journey through the Suez Canal.
The island of Santorini.
The Cretan diver.
Vigo Bay.
Atlantis.
The iceberg.
The South Pole.
Our imprisonment beneath the ice.
The battle with the giant squids.
The storm in the Gulf Stream.
The Avenger.
And finally, the terrible destruction of the enemy ship and all its crew.
Every scene passed before me like a dramatic performance.
Then Captain Nemo appeared in my imagination.
He seemed to grow larger and larger.
His face became almost beyond human.
He was no longer simply a man.
He was a creature of the ocean.
The spirit of the sea itself.
It was half past nine.
I held my head in my hands, feeling as if it would burst.
I closed my eyes.
I refused to think anymore.
Only half an hour remained.
Just thirty more minutes of this nightmare.
Then suddenly, I heard music.
The distant sound of the organ drifted through the submarine.
It was a sorrowful melody, like the cry of a soul trying to escape the limits of human life.
I listened without moving.
I barely breathed.
Like Captain Nemo, I was pulled into that strange musical world.
The music seemed to carry him toward the end of his life.
Then a terrifying thought struck me.
Captain Nemo had left his room.
He was in the saloon.
The very place I had to cross to escape.
I would see him one last time.
He might notice me.
He might speak to me.
A single movement from him could stop me.
A single word could keep me trapped forever aboard the Nautilus.
But ten o’clock was approaching.
The moment had arrived.
I had to leave.
Even if Captain Nemo stood directly in front of me, I could not hesitate.
I slowly opened my door.
The hinges seemed to make a terrible sound.
But perhaps that noise existed only in my frightened imagination.
I moved down the dark stairs of the Nautilus.
At every step, I stopped to control my racing heart.
Finally, I reached the saloon door.
I opened it carefully.
The room was completely dark.
The organ music continued softly.
Captain Nemo was there.
He did not notice me.
Even if the room had been brightly lit, I doubt he would have seen me.
He was completely lost in the music.
I crossed the carpet silently.
Every step had to be perfect.
It took me five minutes to reach the opposite door leading to the library.
Just as I was about to open it, I heard Captain Nemo sigh.
I froze.
He was standing up.
The light from the library allowed me to see him.
He walked toward me silently.
His arms were crossed.
He moved like a ghost rather than a man.
His chest trembled with emotion.
Then I heard him whisper the last words I would ever hear from him:
“Almighty God! Enough! Enough!”
Was it a confession?
Was his conscience finally filled with regret?
I do not know.
I rushed through the library.
I climbed the central staircase and reached the boat.
I entered through the opening where my two companions were already waiting.
“Go! Go!” I cried.
“Right now!” answered the Canadian.
First, we closed the opening in the Nautilus and locked it with a false key that Ned had prepared.
Then we closed the entrance of the small boat.
Ned began removing the bolts that connected us to the submarine.
Suddenly, we heard a noise.
Voices were shouting throughout the Nautilus.
Had they discovered our escape?
I felt Ned push a dagger into my hand.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“We know how to die.”
The Canadian stopped working.
Then we heard one word repeated again and again.
A terrible word.
A word that explained the panic spreading through the submarine.
They were not searching for us.
“The maelstrom!”
“The maelstrom!”
Could there have been a more terrifying sound at such a moment?
We were near the dangerous coast of Norway.
The Nautilus had been drawn toward the deadly whirlpool.
The small boat was still attached to its side.
Would we escape before being dragged into the abyss?
We knew the legend of this place.
Between the Faroe Islands and the Lofoten Islands, the tides created enormous currents.
The trapped waters rushed together with unstoppable force, forming a giant whirlpool from which no ship could escape.
Waves from every direction collided.
A massive ocean vortex opened before us.
People called it the “Navel of the Ocean.”
Its power reached many miles away.
Ships disappeared there.
Whales were swallowed.
Even polar bears were said to have been lost in those waters.
And now the Nautilus was being carried toward it.
Whether Captain Nemo had chosen this path or fate had forced him there, the submarine was entering the maelstrom.
It began moving in a spiral.
The circle became smaller and smaller.
The small boat attached to its side was dragged along faster and faster.
I felt the terrible dizziness of endless spinning.
We were frozen with fear.
Our hearts seemed to stop.
Our bodies were covered with cold sweat.
Around us, the ocean roared.
The waves crashed against distant rocks.
The sound echoed for miles.
Below us, the water smashed against the sharp stones where even the strongest objects were destroyed.
Trees were stripped bare.
Nothing could survive there.
What a situation we were in!
The small boat shook violently.
The Nautilus fought against the force of the whirlpool like a living creature.
Its steel body groaned.
Sometimes it seemed to rise almost vertically.
And we rose with it.
“We must hold on,” Ned shouted.
“Keep the bolts secure. We may still survive if we stay attached to the Nautilus.”
Before he finished speaking, a terrible cracking sound exploded.
The bolts broke.
The small boat was torn away from the submarine.
Like a stone thrown from a sling, we were launched directly into the center of the whirlpool.
My head struck a piece of iron.
The violent impact took away my consciousness.