The next morning, I woke up with an unusually clear mind.
To my great surprise, I found myself back in my own cabin.
My companions must have been returned to their cabin as well, without knowing any more than I did about how it happened.
The strange events of the previous night remained a complete mystery.
I could only hope that time would eventually reveal the truth.
I wondered whether I was free again or still a prisoner aboard the Nautilus.
The answer came quickly.
I opened the door, stepped into the passage, and walked toward the central staircase.
The panels that had been locked the night before were now open.
I climbed up and reached the platform.
Ned Land and Conseil were already waiting there.
I looked at them with curiosity.
“Did you see anything last night?” I asked.
They looked at each other in confusion.
“No, Professor,” Conseil replied. “We know nothing.”
“We fell into a deep sleep,” Ned said. “The next thing we knew, we were back in our own cabin.”
The Nautilus appeared as mysterious as ever.
It moved calmly across the surface of the sea at a moderate speed.
Nothing on board seemed different.
The second officer soon appeared on the platform.
He gave his usual command, and the crew began their work below.
But Captain Nemo did not appear.
Among all the people aboard, I saw only the silent steward.
As usual, he served me without speaking a single word.
Around two o’clock, I was sitting in the drawing room, organizing my notes, when the door opened.
Captain Nemo entered.
I stood up and bowed.
He gave a slight nod in return but said nothing.
I sat back down and continued my work.
I hoped he would finally explain what had happened the night before.
But he remained silent.
I watched him carefully.
He looked exhausted.
His eyes were heavy, as if sleep had brought him no rest.
His face showed deep sadness.
He walked back and forth around the room.
He sat down, then immediately stood again.
He picked up a book but soon put it aside.
He checked his instruments but did not write down his usual observations.
Something was clearly troubling him.
At last, he came toward me.
“Are you a doctor, Monsieur Aronnax?” he asked.
I was so surprised that I stared at him for several moments before answering.
“Are you a doctor?” he repeated. “Several of your colleagues have studied medicine.”
“Yes, Captain,” I replied. “I am a doctor and a surgeon at the hospital. I practiced medicine for several years before joining the museum.”
“Very well, sir.”
My answer seemed to satisfy him.
Still, I had no idea why he had asked, so I waited.
“Monsieur Aronnax,” he said, “would you be willing to examine one of my men and prescribe treatment for him?”
“Is he sick?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I am ready to help you.”
“Then come with me.”
I admit my heart began beating faster.
I did not know why.
But I felt there was a connection between this injured man and the mysterious events of the previous night.
The mystery interested me as much as the patient himself.
Captain Nemo led me to the rear part of the Nautilus and took me into a small cabin near the sailors’ quarters.
Inside, a man about forty years old was lying on a bed.
His face showed strength and determination.
He looked like a typical Anglo-Saxon sailor.
I bent over him.
He was not simply ill.
He was badly wounded.
His head was wrapped in blood-stained bandages.
When I removed them, the injured man looked at me with wide, calm eyes.
He showed no sign of pain.
The wound was terrible.
His skull had been crushed by some powerful blow.
Part of his brain was exposed and severely damaged.
Dark blood clots covered the injured area, resembling the thick remains at the bottom of a wine glass.
The brain had suffered both a severe impact and internal bleeding.
His breathing was slow.
Occasional muscle spasms moved across his face.
I checked his pulse.
It was weak and irregular.
His hands and feet were already becoming cold.
I knew there was no hope.
Death was unavoidable.
After treating the wound as carefully as possible, I replaced the bandages and turned to Captain Nemo.
“What caused this injury?” I asked.
“What difference does it make?” he replied quietly.
“A sudden impact broke one of the engine’s levers, and it struck him.”
Then he looked at me.
“But tell me, what is your opinion of his condition?”
I hesitated.
“You may speak freely,” Captain Nemo said. “This man does not understand French.”
I looked once more at the dying sailor.
“He will be dead within two hours.”
“Is there nothing that can save him?”
“Nothing.”
Captain Nemo’s hand tightened.
For a moment, I saw tears appear in his eyes.
I had never imagined that such a man could cry.
I remained beside the dying sailor for a while.
His life was slowly fading away.
Under the electric light, his pale face became even whiter.
I looked at his intelligent forehead, marked by early wrinkles.
They seemed to have been caused by suffering and sorrow.
I wondered what kind of life had created such a face.
I tried to understand him through the final sounds that escaped his lips.
“You may leave now, Monsieur Aronnax,” Captain Nemo said.
I left him alone with the dying man.
Returning to my cabin, I felt deeply disturbed.
All day, troubling thoughts filled my mind.
That night, I slept badly.
Between my broken dreams, I thought I heard distant sighs.
They sounded almost like the slow notes of a funeral hymn.
Were they the prayers of the dead, spoken in a language I could not understand?
The next morning, I went up to the platform.
Captain Nemo was already there.
As soon as he saw me, he approached.
“Professor,” he said, “would you like to take a submarine walk today?”
“With my companions?” I asked.
“If they wish to join you.”
“We will follow your instructions, Captain.”
“Then please put on your diving suits.”
This time, it was not a journey to see the dead or dying.
I returned to Ned Land and Conseil and told them about Captain Nemo’s offer.
Conseil immediately agreed.
To my surprise, the Canadian also seemed willing.
At eight o’clock in the morning, we prepared for the new expedition.
By half past eight, we had put on our diving equipment and carried two devices that provided light and fresh air.
The double door opened.
Captain Nemo followed by twelve crew members stepped out with us.
Thirty feet below the surface, we reached the ocean floor where the Nautilus rested.
A gentle slope led downward.
At a depth of about ninety feet, the seabed became uneven.
This place was completely different from the underwater landscape I had explored before in the Pacific.
There was no soft sand.
No underwater grasslands.
No forests of ordinary sea plants.
I immediately recognized the magnificent region Captain Nemo had once promised to show us.
We had entered the coral kingdom.
The light from our lamps revealed thousands of beautiful colors.
They moved among branches glowing with brilliant shades.
I watched delicate coral structures sway with the movement of the water.
They looked like living flowers.
I felt the desire to reach out and touch their fresh petals and tiny tentacles.
Some were fully open.
Others were still forming.
Small fish darted around them like birds flying through a garden.
But whenever my hand came close, the entire colony reacted.
The white petals quickly withdrew into their red coverings.
The flowers disappeared before my eyes.
The beautiful garden transformed into a lifeless mass of stone.
By chance, I found myself near some of the rarest coral specimens.
This coral was far more valuable than the varieties found in the Mediterranean near France, Italy, and North Africa.
Its colors explained the poetic names given by traders:
“The Flower of Blood.”
“The Foam of Blood.”
This coral was extremely expensive.
A single ounce could sell for twenty pounds.
The coral beds around us could have made a fortune for any group of divers.
Mixed with other forms of marine life, these creatures formed tangled structures known as “macciota.”
Among them, I discovered several magnificent examples of pink coral.
Soon, however, the scenery changed.
The coral branches became larger.
The formations grew thicker.
Before us appeared enormous petrified forests.
They looked like ancient stone trees with strange and beautiful shapes.
Captain Nemo led us beneath a dark archway.
A gentle slope carried us deeper.
Soon we reached a depth of about one hundred yards.
The light from our lamps created magical scenes.
It revealed natural arches, hanging formations, and enormous coral structures that looked like crystal chandeliers with glowing points of fire.
After two hours of walking, we reached a depth of nearly three hundred yards.
This was the deepest level where coral could still grow.
But there were no small bushes or simple branches here.
Instead, we stood before a vast underwater forest.
Huge mineral trees rose around us.
Their branches were connected by delicate sea vines.
Everything shimmered with strange reflections.
We walked freely beneath these towering structures, surrounded by the silent darkness of the ocean.
Captain Nemo suddenly stopped.
We stopped as well.
Turning around, I noticed his men forming a half-circle around him.
Then I saw four of them carrying a long, rectangular object on their shoulders.
We were standing in the center of a great underwater clearing.
Tall coral formations surrounded us like trees in a forest.
Our lamps created a pale twilight.
The shadows stretched across the ground.
At the far end of the clearing, darkness gathered.
Only small flashes of light reflected from the tips of the coral.
Ned Land and Conseil stood beside me.
We watched silently.
I felt that something extraordinary was about to happen.
Looking carefully at the ground, I noticed several raised areas covered with mineral deposits.
They were arranged with such order that they could not have been natural.
Then, in the center of the clearing, I saw a cross made of coral.
Its long arms looked as if they were carved from frozen blood.
Captain Nemo made a signal.
One of the sailors stepped forward.
He took a pickaxe from his belt and began digging a hole near the cross.
At that moment, everything became clear.
This place was a cemetery.
The hole was a grave.
The object carried by the sailors was the body of the man who had died during the night.
Captain Nemo and his crew had come here to bury their companion in this hidden resting place beneath the ocean.
The grave was dug slowly.
Fish scattered in every direction as the peaceful underwater world was disturbed.
I heard the sound of the pickaxe striking the seabed.
Each time it hit a piece of stone, sparks flashed in the darkness.
Soon, the grave was deep enough.
The sailors approached.
The body, wrapped in white cloth, was lowered carefully into the damp earth.
Captain Nemo stood with his arms crossed over his chest.
His men knelt beside him in silent prayer.
All of us fell to our knees in a solemn farewell.
The grave was then filled with earth and stones.
A small mound marked the resting place.
When everything was finished, Captain Nemo and his crew stood up.
Then they returned to the grave one final time.
They knelt again and stretched out their hands in a final goodbye.
The funeral procession began its return journey.
We passed beneath the coral arches.
We moved through the underwater forests and along the colorful coral gardens.
Slowly, we climbed toward the surface.
At last, the lights of the Nautilus appeared.
Following its glowing trail, we returned to the submarine.
By one o’clock, we were back aboard.
After changing my clothes, I went to the platform.
My mind was filled with mixed emotions.
I sat near the compass.
Captain Nemo soon joined me.
I stood and said:
“So, Captain, as I predicted, the man died during the night?”
“Yes, Monsieur Aronnax.”
“And now he rests beside his companions in the coral cemetery?”
“Yes. Forgotten by everyone else, perhaps, but never by us.”
He paused.
“We dug his grave, and the coral creatures will protect his body forever.”
Then he quickly covered his face with his hands.
He tried to hide a sob but failed.
“Our peaceful cemetery lies there,” he continued softly, “a hundred feet below the surface of the waves.”
“At least your dead rest peacefully there, Captain,” I said. “Far away from sharks.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Nemo replied seriously.
“Far away from sharks…”
He paused.
“And far away from men.”