The next day, January 10th, the Nautilus continued moving between two seas. Its speed was astonishing. I estimated that it was traveling at no less than thirty-five miles an hour.
The propeller spun so quickly that I could not follow its movement or count its revolutions.
When I thought about this incredible electric power, my admiration grew even stronger. It had already given the Nautilus movement, heat, and light. Now it also protected the vessel from outside attacks, turning it into a safe fortress that no stranger could touch without being struck down.
My admiration was not only for the machine itself, but also for the genius who had created it.
Our course was westward.
On January 11th, we passed Cape Wessel, located at 135° east longitude and 10° south latitude. It formed the eastern point of the Gulf of Carpentaria.
The reefs were still everywhere, but they were more evenly spread out and carefully marked on the charts.
The Nautilus easily avoided the Money reefs on the left and the Victoria reefs on the right. These reefs lay near the 130° east longitude line and the 10th parallel, which we followed closely.
On January 13th, Captain Nemo brought the Nautilus into the Timor Sea and identified the island of Timor at 122° east longitude.
From there, the Nautilus changed direction and headed southwest.
The Indian Ocean was now before us.
I wondered where Captain Nemo intended to take us next.
Would he return toward the coasts of Asia?
Would he approach Europe again?
Both possibilities seemed unlikely for a man who avoided all inhabited lands.
Perhaps he would continue southward.
Would he pass the Cape of Good Hope, then Cape Horn, and eventually reach the Antarctic regions?
Or would he return to the Pacific Ocean, where the Nautilus could travel freely without interference?
Only time would reveal his plans.
After passing the sandbanks of Cartier, Hibernia, Seringapatam, and Scott—the last remaining traces of land struggling against the endless sea—we lost sight of land completely on January 14th.
The Nautilus slowed down considerably.
Its movements became irregular. Sometimes it traveled deep beneath the waves; at other times, it floated calmly on the surface.
During this part of the journey, Captain Nemo carried out a series of fascinating experiments on the temperature of the ocean at different depths.
Normally, such measurements were made with complicated instruments. Scientists used special thermometers attached to sounding devices, but the results were often unreliable because the glass tubes could break under the enormous pressure of the water.
Other methods relied on measuring changes in metals caused by electric currents, but these calculations were not always accurate either.
Captain Nemo used a far simpler method.
He personally tested the temperature of the ocean depths.
His thermometer was connected directly to different layers of water and immediately provided precise readings.
By filling her water tanks or using her angled diving planes, the Nautilus gradually descended deeper and deeper.
She reached depths of:
three thousand yards,
four thousand yards,
five thousand yards,
seven thousand yards,
nine thousand yards,
and finally ten thousand yards.
The final result of Captain Nemo’s experiment was remarkable.
At a depth of five thousand fathoms, the temperature of the ocean remained around four and a half degrees Celsius, no matter where on Earth the measurement was taken.
On January 16th, the Nautilus seemed to be resting just a few yards below the surface.
Its electric machinery was silent.
The propeller stopped turning.
The vessel simply drifted with the movement of the currents.
I assumed the crew was making repairs inside the ship, perhaps because the powerful machinery had suffered from long use.
My companions and I then witnessed an extraordinary sight.
The windows of the saloon were open.
Since the Nautilus’s powerful searchlight was not turned on, the surrounding ocean was almost completely dark.
I watched the sea through the glass.
The largest fish looked like nothing more than vague shadows moving through the darkness.
Then suddenly, the entire world around us burst into light.
At first, I thought Captain Nemo had activated the electric lamp.
I was wrong.
After observing carefully, I understood what had happened.
The Nautilus was surrounded by a glowing ocean filled with countless tiny creatures.
In the darkness, these tiny animals produced a dazzling light.
Their brightness became even stronger as they touched the metal body of the submarine.
It seemed as if lightning was flashing all around us.
The water looked like rivers of melted silver flowing through a blazing furnace.
The contrast was so powerful that some bright areas appeared almost dark compared with the overwhelming glow surrounding them.
No, this was not ordinary reflected light.
This was something alive.
This was living light.
In reality, the phenomenon was caused by an enormous number of tiny glowing creatures.
They were microscopic organisms, small jelly-like bodies with thread-like tentacles.
Scientists had counted as many as twenty-five thousand of them in less than two cubic inches of seawater.
For several hours, the Nautilus moved through these shining waves.
Our amazement continued to grow as we watched sea creatures moving through the glowing water like creatures from a magical world.
Among them, I saw fast and graceful porpoises, the tireless performers of the ocean.
I also saw swordfish nearly ten feet long.
These powerful fish, often considered warnings of coming storms, occasionally struck the glass windows of the saloon with their enormous swords.
Then came smaller creatures:
balistidae,
flying mackerel,
wolf-thorn tails,
and countless other fish that cut through the glowing sea like living sparks.
The sight was breathtaking.
Perhaps some special condition in the atmosphere had increased the intensity of this strange phenomenon.
Perhaps a storm was disturbing the ocean surface.
But several yards below the waves, the Nautilus remained completely unaffected.
It rested peacefully in calm water while the storm raged far above.
Thus we continued our journey, constantly discovering new wonders.
The days passed quickly.
I stopped paying attention to time.
Ned Land continued trying to add variety to our meals, as he always did.
Like snails attached to their shells, we had become creatures living inside our own little world.
I must admit, living a snail’s life was not as difficult as one might imagine.
Little by little, this strange existence began to feel normal.
We no longer thought about the life we had left behind on land.
But an unexpected event soon reminded us how unusual our situation truly was.
On January 18th, the Nautilus was at 105° east longitude and 15° south latitude.
The weather had become threatening.
The sea was rough and restless.
A strong wind blew from the east.
The barometer had been falling for several days, warning us that a storm was approaching.
I went up onto the platform just as the second officer was taking his usual astronomical measurements.
As always, I waited for him to speak his daily phrase.
But that day, the familiar words were replaced by something completely different.
Almost immediately, Captain Nemo appeared.
He was holding a telescope and staring toward the horizon.
For several minutes, he stood perfectly still.
His eyes never left the distant point he was observing.
Then he lowered the telescope and spoke quietly with his officer.
The officer seemed deeply disturbed and tried unsuccessfully to hide his emotions.
Captain Nemo remained calm, but he appeared to disagree with something the officer had said.
The officer responded with firm confidence.
I could only guess what they were discussing from their voices and gestures.
I looked carefully toward the horizon, but I saw nothing.
The sky and the sea blended together in one endless line.
Captain Nemo began walking back and forth across the platform.
He did not look at me.
Perhaps he did not even notice I was there.
His steps were usually calm and controlled, but now they seemed slightly uneven.
Sometimes he stopped, crossed his arms, and stared into the sea.
What could he possibly be searching for in that endless ocean?
The Nautilus was hundreds of miles from the nearest shore.
The officer took the telescope again and continued watching the horizon.
He walked around nervously, stamped his foot, and showed even greater anxiety than his commander.
Whatever mystery existed, it would soon be revealed.
Captain Nemo gave an order.
The engines increased their power.
The propeller began spinning faster.
At that moment, the officer suddenly pointed toward the horizon again.
Captain Nemo stopped.
He raised his telescope and looked for a long time.
I became extremely curious.
I went down to the drawing room and took out my own excellent telescope.
Then I returned to the platform and leaned against the protective cage of the front light.
I began searching the line where the sky met the sea.
But the moment I placed my eye against the telescope, it was suddenly pulled from my hands.
I turned around.
Captain Nemo was standing before me.
But he looked like a completely different man.
His face had changed.
His eyes burned with dark anger.
His teeth were tightly clenched.
His body was rigid.
His fists were closed.
His head was lowered between his shoulders.
Every part of him showed intense emotion.
He did not move.
My telescope fell from his hand and rolled onto the deck.
Had I accidentally angered him?
Did he believe I had discovered some secret he wanted hidden?
No.
I quickly realized I was not the target of his anger.
He was not even looking at me.
His eyes remained fixed on that mysterious point beyond the horizon.
Finally, Captain Nemo regained control of himself.
His agitation slowly disappeared.
He spoke a few words in a foreign language to his officer.
Then he turned toward me.
“M. Aronnax,” he said coldly, “I require you to obey one of the conditions that binds you to me.”
“What is it, Captain?”
“You and your companions must remain confined until I decide to release you.”
“You are the master,” I replied calmly.
“But may I ask one question?”
“Not one.”
His command was absolute.
There was no point arguing.
I returned to the cabin where Ned Land and Conseil were staying and told them Captain Nemo’s decision.
You can imagine how the Canadian reacted.
However, there was no time for a serious argument.
Four crew members were already waiting outside the door.
They escorted us back to the small room where we had spent our first night aboard the Nautilus.
Ned Land wanted to protest.
But before he could say anything, the door closed.
“Will master explain what this means?” Conseil asked.
I told them everything that had happened.
They were just as confused and surprised as I was.
Meanwhile, I could think of nothing except the strange fear I had seen on Captain Nemo’s face.
I could not understand it.
Then Ned Land suddenly interrupted my thoughts.
“Hey! Breakfast is ready.”
And indeed, the table had been prepared.
Clearly, Captain Nemo had given this order at the same moment he ordered the ship to increase speed.
“May I make a suggestion, master?” Conseil asked.
“Of course, my boy.”
“I suggest that master eat breakfast. It is wise because we do not know what may happen next.”
“You are right, Conseil.”
“Unfortunately,” Ned Land said, “they have only given us ordinary ship food.”
“My friend Ned,” Conseil replied, “what would you have said if they had forgotten breakfast completely?”
That answer ended the harpooner’s complaints.
We sat down and ate in silence.
Suddenly, the glowing lamp inside the room went out.
Darkness surrounded us.
Ned Land quickly fell asleep.
What surprised me was that Conseil also entered a deep sleep almost immediately.
I wondered what could have caused such sudden exhaustion.
Then I felt my own mind becoming heavy.
No matter how hard I tried to stay awake, my eyes slowly closed.
A terrible suspicion entered my thoughts.
The food.
Something had been added to it.
Captain Nemo did not only want to keep us imprisoned.
He wanted to make sure we could not discover what he intended to do.
Sleep was necessary for his plans.
I heard the doors closing.
The gentle movement of the ocean stopped.
The rolling motion disappeared.
Had the Nautilus left the surface?
Had it returned to the silent depths of the sea?
I tried desperately to resist sleep.
But it was impossible.
My breathing became weaker.
A deadly cold spread through my body.
My arms and legs became stiff and powerless.
My eyelids felt as heavy as iron.
I could not lift them.
A strange sleep filled with terrible dreams took control of me.
My thoughts faded.
The visions disappeared.
And finally, I lost all awareness of myself.