Captain Nemo pointed to the instruments fixed around the walls of his room.
“These are the devices that control the navigation of the Nautilus,” he said. “Just like the instruments in the main salon, I keep them where I can always see them. They tell me exactly where we are and which direction we are moving, even in the middle of the ocean.”
“Some of them are familiar to you,” he continued. “For example, this thermometer shows the temperature inside the Nautilus. The barometer tells me the pressure of the air and helps predict changes in the weather. The hygrometer measures the dryness of the atmosphere. This storm glass warns me of approaching storms. The compass guides our course. The sextant allows me to calculate our latitude by measuring the height of the sun. The chronometers help me determine our longitude. And these optical glasses allow me to observe the horizon both during the day and at night whenever the Nautilus rises above the waves.”
“These are ordinary navigation instruments,” I replied. “I understand their purpose. But these other ones must have been designed especially for the Nautilus. This instrument with the moving needle—is it a pressure gauge?”
“Yes, it is a pressure gauge,” Captain Nemo answered. “But because it is connected with the seawater outside, it also tells me our exact depth.”
“And these other instruments? I cannot understand what they do.”
“Professor, I should explain them to you. Will you listen?”
He paused for a moment, then continued.
“There is a force that is powerful, obedient, fast, and adaptable. It can be used for almost anything. On this ship, it controls everything. It provides our light, our heat, and the power that drives our machines. That force is electricity.”
“Electricity?” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, sir.”
“But Captain,” I said, “the Nautilus moves with incredible speed. That does not seem possible with electricity. Until now, the power produced by electricity has been too limited to create such movement.”
Captain Nemo smiled.
“Professor, my electricity is not the ordinary electricity known by everyone. You know what seawater contains. In one thousand grams of seawater, there are about ninety-six and a half percent water, nearly three percent sodium chloride, and smaller amounts of magnesium chloride, potassium chloride, magnesium bromide, magnesium sulfate, and other minerals.”
“You see, then, that salt is one of the main elements in seawater. I extract sodium from the ocean and use it to create the materials I need. Everything I use comes from the sea. The ocean produces electricity, and electricity gives the Nautilusheat, light, movement, and, in short, life.”
“But electricity cannot provide the air you breathe, can it?”
“Oh, I could create the air I need if necessary,” said Nemo. “But there is no reason to do so, because I can rise to the surface whenever I wish.”
“However, even though electricity does not create the air itself, it powers the strong pumps stored in large tanks. These allow me to remain underwater as long as I want. It also provides a steady, endless light—a light that the sun cannot offer at the bottom of the ocean.”
“Look at this clock. It is powered by electricity, and it keeps time with a precision that even the finest chronometers cannot match. I have divided it into twenty-four hours, like Italian clocks, because down here there is no night or day, no sun or moon. There is only the artificial light that I carry with me beneath the sea.”
He glanced at the clock.
“Look. It is now ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Exactly,” I replied.
“Here is another use of electricity.”
Captain Nemo pointed to another instrument.
“This dial shows the speed of the Nautilus. An electric connection links it to the propeller, and the needle shows our exact speed. At this moment, we are moving steadily at fifteen miles per hour.”
“It is extraordinary,” I said. “Captain, you were right to use this power. It replaces wind, water currents, and steam.”
“We are not finished yet, Monsieur Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo as he stood up. “Come with me. We will examine the rear section of the Nautilus.”
I already knew the front part of this submarine and its layout.
Starting from the front of the ship, there was the dining room, about fifteen feet long, separated from the library by a watertight wall. Then came the library, also fifteen feet long. After that was the large salon, about thirty feet long, separated from the captain’s room by another watertight wall. The captain’s room was fifteen feet long, mine was about seven and a half feet, and finally there was an air storage chamber about twenty-two feet long extending toward the front.
The total length was about one hundred and five feet.
The doors between these sections closed tightly with rubber seals, making the Nautilus safe even if part of the vessel was damaged and flooded.
I followed Captain Nemo through the central passage and reached the middle of the submarine.
There was a kind of vertical shaft between two partitions. An iron ladder attached firmly to the wall led upward.
I looked at it curiously.
“What is this ladder for, Captain?”
“It leads to the small boat,” he replied.
“A small boat?” I cried. “You actually have another boat?”
“Of course. It is an excellent little vessel—light, impossible to sink, and useful for fishing or pleasure trips.”
“But then, when you want to use it, you must first bring the Nautilus to the surface?”
“Not at all. The small boat is attached to the upper part of the Nautilus and stored inside a special space built for it. It is completely sealed and secured with strong bolts.”
“This ladder leads to a hatch in the roof of the Nautilus. That hatch matches another opening in the side of the small boat. Through these two openings, I can enter the boat.”
“First, the hatch on the Nautilus is closed. Then I close the other one with screw pressure. After that, I release the bolts, and the small boat rises to the surface with great speed.”
“Once I reach the surface, I open the top panel, which has remained tightly closed until then. I attach the mast, raise the sail, take my oars, and leave.”
“But how do you return to the Nautilus?” I asked.
“I do not return to the Nautilus, Monsieur Aronnax. The Nautilus comes to me.”
“By your command?”
“Yes. An electric cable connects me with the submarine. I send a signal, and that is enough.”
“Truly,” I said, amazed by everything I had seen, “nothing could be simpler.”
We passed the staircase leading to the upper platform and entered a small cabin about six feet long. There I saw Conseil and Ned Land happily eating their meal and enjoying every bite.
A door led into the kitchen, which was about nine feet long and located between the large storage rooms.
Electricity, far better than gas, handled all the cooking. Electric currents heated special platinum devices beneath the ovens, producing a steady and evenly distributed heat.
The same system powered a distilling machine that turned seawater into excellent drinking water.
Near the kitchen was a comfortable bathroom equipped with both hot and cold water.
Next to the kitchen was the crew’s sleeping area, about sixteen feet long. The door was closed, so I could not see how it was arranged. If I had entered, I might have discovered how many men were actually working aboard the Nautilus.
At the far end, another partition separated this area from the engine room.
A door opened, and I found myself inside the heart of the submarine—the place where Captain Nemo had created his powerful machinery.
The engine room was brightly lit and stretched more than sixty-five feet in length. It was divided into two sections.
The first contained the equipment that produced electricity.
The second contained the machines that transferred this power to the propeller.
I examined everything carefully, fascinated by the technology that moved the Nautilus.
“You see,” Captain Nemo explained, “I use Bunsen batteries, not Ruhmkorff’s devices. Those would not have been powerful enough for my needs. Bunsen batteries are fewer in number, but they are much stronger and larger. Experience has proven that they are the better choice.”
“The electricity they produce is sent forward. There, powerful electromagnets operate a system of levers and gears, which transfer the movement to the propeller shaft.”
“This propeller is nineteen feet in diameter, with blades twenty-three feet long. It turns about one hundred and twenty times every second.”
“And what speed does that give you?” I asked.
“A speed of fifty miles per hour.”
“I saw the Nautilus move around the Abraham Lincoln, so I already had some idea of its speed. But speed alone is not enough.”
“We must know how to control the vessel. We need to turn right and left, rise and descend. How do you reach the great depths where the pressure increases to hundreds of atmospheres? How do you return to the surface? And how do you maintain the proper conditions for living underwater?”
“Am I asking too many questions?”
“Not at all, Professor,” Captain Nemo replied, though he hesitated slightly. “Since you may never leave this submarine, you have every right to understand it.”
“Come with me to the salon. It is where I usually study. There you will learn everything you wish to know about the Nautilus.”