That evening, at about 21°30′ north latitude, the Nautilus rose to the surface as it approached the Arabian coast.
From the platform, I saw the city of Jeddah, the great trading center connecting Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and India. The low sun shone directly onto the white buildings, making them stand out clearly against the horizon.
I could see ships anchored near the harbor, while larger vessels that could not enter the shallow waters remained farther out at sea.
Beyond the city, small wooden huts and reed shelters revealed the area where the Bedouins lived.
But soon darkness covered Jeddah, and the Nautilus slipped quietly beneath the waves. The water around us glowed faintly with a strange blue light from the tiny creatures of the sea.
The following day, February 10th, we saw several ships struggling against the wind.
The Nautilus quickly returned to underwater travel. But at noon, after Captain Nemo checked our position and found the sea empty around us, the submarine rose again until the upper part of the vessel reached the waterline.
Ned Land, Conseil, and I went up to the platform.
The eastern coast appeared like a faint shadow painted across a layer of mist.
We leaned against the side of the small boat and talked quietly when Ned suddenly stretched out his hand toward the sea.
“Do you see anything there, sir?” he asked.
I looked carefully.
“No, Ned. But you know my eyesight is not as sharp as yours.”
“Look more carefully,” he said. “Over there, on the right side of the boat, near the height of the lantern. Don’t you see something moving?”
After staring for a moment, I finally noticed it.
“Yes, I see something. It looks like a long black shape floating on the surface.”
The object slowly came closer.
Before long, it was less than a mile away. At first, it looked like a large sandbank floating in the sea.
But then I realized what it was.
It was a gigantic dugong.
Ned Land stared at the creature with excitement. His eyes shone with the passion of a hunter. His hand almost seemed ready to throw a harpoon.
He looked as if he could jump into the ocean at any moment and fight the animal in its own world.
Just then, Captain Nemo appeared on the platform.
He immediately understood what had captured Ned’s attention.
“If you were holding a harpoon right now, Master Land,” said the Captain, “wouldn’t your hand be burning with excitement?”
“It certainly would, Captain.”
“And you would not mind returning, even for one day, to your old profession as a hunter and adding this creature to the list of animals you have captured?”
“I certainly would not.”
“Then you may try.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Ned said, his eyes full of excitement.
“But for your own safety,” Captain Nemo continued, “I advise you not to miss.”
“Is the dugong dangerous?” I asked.
“Yes,” replied Captain Nemo. “Sometimes it turns against its attackers and can overturn their boat. But I do not think Master Land needs to worry about that. His eyesight is excellent, and his arm is steady.”
At that moment, seven members of the crew appeared on the platform. As usual, they moved silently and without expression.
One of them carried a harpoon and a rope like those used for hunting whales.
The small boat was lifted from its place on the Nautilus and lowered into the sea.
Six sailors took their seats at the oars, while another man stood at the steering position.
Ned, Conseil, and I sat at the back of the boat.
“Aren’t you coming with us, Captain?” I asked.
“No, Monsieur Aronnax,” he answered. “But I wish you good luck.”
The boat moved away quickly, carried forward by the strength of the six rowers.
The dugong floated about two miles away from the Nautilus.
When we came within a few hundred feet of it, the boat slowed down. The oars entered the water silently.
Ned Land stood at the front of the boat, holding the harpoon tightly.
Normally, a whale harpoon was attached to a very long rope. When the wounded animal escaped, the rope would run out behind it.
But this time, the rope was much shorter. At its end was attached a small floating barrel, which would show the direction taken by the wounded dugong.
I carefully watched Ned’s opponent.
The dugong, also known as a halicore, looked similar to a manatee. Its long body ended in a powerful tail, and its side fins looked almost like fingers.
The main difference was its upper jaw, which carried two long, sharp teeth that curved outward like tusks.
This particular animal was enormous.
It was more than twenty feet long.
It floated quietly on the waves as if asleep, making it an easy target.
The boat moved closer.
The oars stopped.
I stood halfway up.
Ned Land leaned backward slightly and raised the harpoon with the confidence of an experienced hunter.
Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the air.
The dugong disappeared beneath the water.
The harpoon flew forward but only struck the sea.
“Damn it!” Ned shouted angrily. “I missed!”
“No,” I said. “You wounded it. Look, there is blood in the water. But your harpoon did not stay inside its body.”
“My harpoon! My harpoon!” Ned cried.
The sailors rowed toward the floating barrel.
After recovering the weapon, we continued chasing the animal.
The dugong came to the surface from time to time to breathe. The wound had not slowed it down. It moved through the water with incredible speed.
The boat followed as quickly as the rowers could manage.
Several times we came close enough for Ned to strike, but every time the creature suddenly dived away.
Imagine Ned Land’s frustration.
He shouted every angry word he knew in English.
I was disappointed too, because I wanted to see whether we could capture such a magnificent creature.
We chased it for nearly an hour.
I began to believe the animal would escape when suddenly it made a terrible mistake.
Driven by anger, it turned around and attacked us.
Ned immediately noticed.
“Watch out!” he shouted.
The boat’s commander gave a sharp order in his own language, warning the sailors to prepare.
The dugong rushed toward us.
When it came within twenty feet, it stopped.
It lifted its huge nostrils and smelled the air.
Then, with incredible power, it charged straight at us.
The small boat could not avoid the attack.
The impact almost turned us over, and at least two tons of water poured inside.
Luckily, the coxswain turned the boat sideways at the last moment. If we had taken the blow directly, we would certainly have been overturned.
Ned Land grabbed the front of the boat and attacked the huge animal with his harpoon.
The dugong’s teeth sank into the side of the boat.
With unbelievable strength, it lifted the entire boat out of the water, just as a lion lifts a deer.
We fell against each other in confusion.
I do not know how the struggle would have ended if Ned had not struck with all his strength.
The Canadian, still furious, drove the harpoon deep into the animal’s heart.
I heard the creature’s teeth scrape against the metal side of the boat.
Then the dugong disappeared beneath the waves, taking the harpoon with it.
But soon the floating barrel appeared again.
A moment later, the body of the animal rose to the surface, floating on its back.
The boat reached it, attached a rope, and towed it back toward the Nautilus.
It required powerful equipment to lift the huge creature onto the platform.
The dugong weighed nearly ten thousand pounds.
The next day, February 11th, the Nautilus received more fresh supplies.
A group of sea swallows landed on the submarine.
They were a species found in Egypt, with black beaks, gray pointed heads, white markings around their eyes, gray wings and tails, white throats and bellies, and red claws.
The crew also caught several Nile ducks, famous for their delicious meat.
Around five o’clock in the evening, we saw Cape Ras Mohammed to the north.
This cape marked the end of Arabia Petraea, lying between the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Aqaba.
The Nautilus entered the Straits of Jubal, which led toward the Gulf of Suez.
I clearly saw a great mountain rising between the two gulfs.
It was Mount Horeb—the famous Sinai mountain where Moses, according to tradition, saw God.
At six o’clock, the Nautilus moved past Tor, sometimes floating and sometimes diving beneath the surface.
The waters of the bay appeared reddish, just as Captain Nemo had previously observed.
Night soon arrived.
The silence around us was broken only by the cries of pelicans and other night birds, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, and the distant noise of steamships crossing the gulf.
Between eight and nine o’clock, the Nautilus remained several fathoms underwater.
According to my calculations, we were approaching Suez.
Through the glass windows of the saloon, I saw the rocky seabed illuminated brilliantly by our electric lights.
The narrow passage behind us seemed to disappear into the darkness.
At a quarter past nine, the submarine returned to the surface.
I immediately went up to the platform.
I was impatient to see Captain Nemo’s famous tunnel, and I could not remain still. I wanted to feel the fresh night air before entering the unknown passage.
Soon, through the darkness, I saw a pale light shining through the mist about a mile away.
“A floating lighthouse,” someone said.
I turned around.
It was Captain Nemo.
“That is the floating light of Suez,” he said. “Soon we will reach the entrance of the tunnel.”
“Is the entrance difficult to pass?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “That is why I usually take control myself from the pilot’s cabin.”
He looked toward me.
“Now, Monsieur Aronnax, please go below. The Nautilus will dive beneath the waves and will not return to the surface until we have crossed the Arabian Tunnel.”
Captain Nemo led me down the central staircase.
Halfway down, he opened a door and guided me across the upper deck to the pilot’s cabin at the end of the platform.
The cabin was about six feet square, similar to the steering cabins used by pilots on river steamers.
In the center stood a large vertical wheel connected to the steering system.
Four small windows with thick glass allowed the pilot to see in every direction.
The cabin was dark at first, but my eyes soon adjusted.
I saw the pilot, a powerful man, standing with both hands on the wheel.
Outside, the sea shone brightly beneath the submarine’s powerful lights.
“Now,” said Captain Nemo, “let us begin our journey.”
Electric wires connected the pilot’s cabin to the engine room. Through them, Captain Nemo could control both the direction and speed of the Nautilus.
He pressed a metal button.
Immediately, the speed of the propeller decreased.
I watched silently as we moved beside a towering underwater wall—the solid base of a huge sandy coastline.
For an hour, we followed it only a few yards away.
Captain Nemo never removed his eyes from the control device.
With the slightest movement, the pilot adjusted our direction.
I stood near one of the windows and watched the amazing underwater landscape.
Huge coral formations, strange sea creatures, seaweed, and marine plants stretched out from cracks in the rocks.
Their shapes looked almost alive beneath the electric light.
At a quarter past ten, Captain Nemo himself took control of the wheel.
Ahead of us appeared a large, dark tunnel.
Without hesitation, the Nautilus entered.
A strange roaring sound surrounded us.
It was the rushing water of the Red Sea, pouring violently through the tunnel toward the Mediterranean.
The Nautilus was carried forward by the powerful current like an arrow.
Even though the engines worked against it by turning the propeller backward, the force of the water was too strong.
Along the narrow walls of the tunnel, I saw only bright lines and fiery streaks created by our incredible speed under the electric lights.
My heart beat faster.
At thirty-five minutes past ten, Captain Nemo left the wheel.
He turned toward me and smiled.
“The Mediterranean,” he said.
In less than twenty minutes, the Nautilus, carried by the powerful current, had crossed the Isthmus of Suez through the legendary Arabian Tunnel.