At dawn on February 12, the Nautilus finally rose to the surface.
I hurried onto the platform.
Three miles to the south, I could barely make out the shadowy shape of Pelusium on the horizon.
We had been carried from one sea to another through a hidden underwater passage.
At about seven o’clock, Ned and Conseil joined me.
“Tell me, Professor,” Ned said with a slightly amused smile, “what about the Mediterranean Sea?”
“We are floating on it right now, my friend.”
“What?” Conseil exclaimed. “Already? This very night?”
“Yes. This very night. In just a few minutes, we passed through that impossible barrier of land.”
“I don’t believe it,” Ned replied.
“Then you are mistaken, Ned Land,” I said. “That low coastline curving away to the south belongs to Egypt. And with your sharp eyes, you can probably see the harbor of Port Said stretching out into the sea.”
The Canadian stared carefully into the distance.
“You are right, sir,” he finally admitted. “And your Captain is truly an extraordinary man. We are in the Mediterranean.”
He paused, then lowered his voice.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to discuss our own little matter. But let us make sure nobody hears us.”
I understood immediately what Ned wanted to talk about.
In any case, I thought it wiser to let him speak freely, so the three of us sat down near the lantern, where we were protected from the spray caused by the propeller.
“Well, Ned,” I said, “we are listening. What do you have to tell us?”
“My idea is very simple,” he answered. “We are in Europe now. Before Captain Nemo’s strange plans carry us back into the frozen seas of the South or drag us once again toward distant islands, I want to leave the Nautilus.”
I had no wish to interfere with my companions’ desire for freedom.
But I myself had no desire to leave Captain Nemo’s vessel.
Thanks to him and his incredible submarine, every day brought me closer to completing my studies of the ocean depths. I was writing my book while living inside the very world I was describing.
Would I ever again have such a chance to observe the hidden wonders of the sea?
Never.
I could not bring myself to abandon the Nautilus before my investigations were finished.
“Ned, answer me honestly,” I said. “Are you tired of life aboard this vessel? Do you regret that fate placed us in Captain Nemo’s hands?”
The Canadian remained silent for a moment.
Then he crossed his arms and replied:
“Honestly, I do not regret this journey beneath the sea. I will always be glad that I experienced it. But now that I have seen enough, I want it to end. That is all.”
“It will end someday, Ned.”
“When? And where?”
“I cannot say where, and I cannot say when. Perhaps it will end when these oceans no longer have anything left to teach us.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Ned asked.
“I am hoping that an opportunity may appear six months from now just as easily as it might appear today—an opportunity we can and should use.”
“Oh, Professor,” Ned said, “where do you suppose we will be six months from now?”
“Perhaps in China. You know how fast the Nautilus travels. It moves through water as quickly as a bird flies through the sky or an express train travels on land. It is not afraid of busy seas. Who knows? It might one day pass near the coasts of France, England, or America, where an escape would be just as possible as it is here.”
“M. Aronnax,” Ned replied, “your argument is built on uncertain hopes. You speak about the future: ‘We will be there. We will be here.’ I speak about the present: ‘We are here now, and we must take advantage of it.’”
Ned’s reasoning was difficult to answer.
I felt that he had the stronger argument.
“Suppose something impossible happened,” Ned continued. “Suppose Captain Nemo offered you your freedom today. Would you accept it?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“And if that offer could never happen again, would you accept?”
“Friend Ned, this is my answer. Your reasoning has convinced me. We cannot depend on Captain Nemo’s kindness. Common sense tells us he would never willingly release us. Therefore, common sense also tells us we must seize the first real opportunity to escape.”
“Well said, Professor,” Ned replied.
“But there is one condition,” I added. “The opportunity must be serious, and our first attempt must succeed. If we fail, we will never have another chance, and Captain Nemo will never forgive us.”
“That is true,” said Ned. “But it applies whether we try in two years or two days. The question remains the same: if a good opportunity appears, we must take it.”
“Agreed. Now tell me, Ned, what kind of opportunity are you looking for?”
“One that brings the Nautilus close to some European shore during a dark night.”
“And you intend to escape by swimming?”
“Yes, if the shore is close enough and if the vessel is on the surface. But not if the coast is far away or if the Nautilus is underwater.”
“And if those conditions are impossible?”
“Then I will take control of the small boat. I know how it works. We only need to get inside, release the fastenings, and the boat will rise to the surface before the pilot at the front even realizes we have escaped.”
“Well, Ned, watch carefully for your chance. But remember—one mistake will destroy us.”
“I will remember, sir.”
“And now, Ned Land, would you like to hear what I think about your plan?”
“Certainly, Professor.”
“I think—not that I hope it, but I think—that this perfect opportunity will never come.”
“Why not?”
“Because Captain Nemo cannot fail to understand that we still hope to regain our freedom. He will be especially careful in these busy seas and near European shores.”
“We shall see,” Ned replied firmly, shaking his head.
“And now, Ned,” I said, “let us end this discussion. Do not speak of it again. The day you are ready, come to me, and we will follow your lead. I trust you completely.”
That was the end of a conversation that would soon lead to serious consequences.
I must admit that later events seemed to prove my doubts correct, much to the Canadian’s disappointment.
Did Captain Nemo distrust us because we were sailing through these crowded waters?
Or was he simply trying to avoid the many ships from different nations that crossed the Mediterranean?
I could not know.
But the fact remained that we were usually far from the coast, hidden beneath the surface.
When the Nautilus did rise, only the pilot’s cabin appeared above the waves.
Sometimes we descended to enormous depths, because between the Greek islands and Asia Minor, the ocean floor was more than a thousand fathoms below us.
I only discovered that we were near the island of Carpathos, one of the Sporades, because Captain Nemo suddenly quoted a line from Virgil while pointing at a place on the map.
“Carpathian waters once belonged to Neptune’s old shepherd, the blue-haired Proteus.”
Indeed, this island was the ancient home of Proteus, the legendary guardian of Neptune’s sea creatures.
Today it was called Scarpanto and lay between Rhodes and Crete.
Through the glass windows of the saloon, I saw only its rocky foundation beneath the sea.
The next day, February 14, I decided to spend several hours studying the fish of the Greek islands.
But for some unknown reason, the observation panels remained tightly closed.
When I checked the Nautilus’s course, I discovered that we were heading toward Crete, the ancient island of Candia.
When I first boarded the Abraham Lincoln, Crete had been in rebellion against Turkish rule.
But I knew nothing about what had happened since then, and Captain Nemo, cut off from all communication with the land, could not tell me.
That night, when I found myself alone with him in the saloon, I said nothing about the rebellion.
Besides, Captain Nemo seemed unusually quiet and thoughtful.
Then, against his usual habit, he ordered both observation windows to be opened.
He walked from one to the other, carefully examining the ocean outside.
I could not understand what he was searching for.
So I continued studying the fish that passed before my eyes.
Suddenly, in the middle of the ocean, a man appeared.
He was a diver carrying a leather pouch around his waist.
He was not a drowned body drifting with the waves.
He was alive.
He swam strongly through the water, disappearing from time to time to rise and breathe at the surface.
I turned toward Captain Nemo.
“A man! A shipwrecked sailor!” I cried. “We must save him immediately!”
The Captain did not answer.
Instead, he walked calmly toward the window.
The diver approached.
His face pressed against the glass as he looked directly at us.
To my great surprise, Captain Nemo made a hand signal.
The diver answered.
Then he quickly rose toward the surface and disappeared.
“Do not worry,” Captain Nemo said. “That is Nicholas from Cape Matapan, known as Pesca. Everyone in the Cyclades knows him. He is a fearless diver. Water is his true home. He spends more time beneath the sea than on land, traveling constantly from island to island, even as far as Crete.”
“You know him, Captain?”
“Why should that surprise you, M. Aronnax?”
Captain Nemo then walked toward a cabinet beside the left observation window.
Near it stood an iron-bound chest.
On its cover was a copper plate marked with the symbol and motto of the Nautilus.
Without paying attention to me, Captain Nemo opened the cabinet.
Inside was a large collection of metal bars.
They were gold ingots.
Where had this enormous amount of precious metal come from?
Where had Captain Nemo found it?
And what did he intend to do with it?
I said nothing.
I simply watched.
Captain Nemo took the gold bars one by one and carefully arranged them inside the chest.
When it was full, I estimated that it contained more than four thousand pounds of gold—worth nearly two hundred thousand pounds sterling.
The chest was locked securely.
Then Captain Nemo wrote an address on the lid in modern Greek letters.
After that, he pressed a button connected to the crew quarters.
Four men appeared.
With some difficulty, they pushed the heavy chest out of the saloon.
I heard them lift it up the iron staircase using pulleys.
Then Captain Nemo turned toward me.
“And you were saying, sir?”
“Nothing, Captain.”
“Then, sir, if you permit me, I shall wish you good night.”
He turned and left the room.
I returned to my cabin deeply troubled.
I could not sleep.
I tried again and again to understand the connection between the diver and the chest filled with gold.
Soon I felt the movements of the ship change.
The Nautilus was rising toward the surface.
Then I heard footsteps on the platform.
The small boat was being released and lowered into the sea.
For a moment, it struck against the side of the submarine.
Then everything became silent.
Two hours later, the same sounds returned.
The boat was lifted back aboard and placed into its compartment.
The Nautilus once again disappeared beneath the waves.
So those millions of gold coins had reached their destination.
But where?
Who was Captain Nemo’s mysterious contact?
The next day, I told Conseil and Ned everything that had happened.
They were just as amazed as I was.
“But where does he send his gold?” Ned asked.
There was no answer.
After breakfast, I returned to the saloon and began working.
Until five o’clock in the evening, I organized my notes.
Then something strange happened.
Perhaps because of my unusual sensitivity to changes in the environment, I suddenly felt an intense heat.
I had to remove my coat.
It seemed impossible.
We were in low latitudes, but the Nautilus was underwater and should not have been affected by outside temperatures.
I checked the pressure gauge.
It showed that we were only sixty feet below the surface.
Yet the heat continued rising.
I returned to my work, but soon the temperature became unbearable.
“Could there be a fire aboard?” I wondered.
I was about to leave the saloon when Captain Nemo entered.
He approached the thermometer.
After looking at it, he said:
“Forty-two degrees.”
“I noticed it too, Captain,” I replied. “If it becomes any hotter, we will not be able to remain here.”
“Oh, it will not become hotter unless we choose it.”
“You can control the temperature?”
“No. But I can move farther away from the source of heat.”
“Then the heat is coming from outside?”
“Exactly. We are passing through boiling water.”
“Is that possible?” I exclaimed.
“Look.”
The observation windows opened.
Around us, the sea was completely white.
A cloud of yellowish smoke twisted through the waves, which boiled like water in a giant pot.
I touched the glass, but the heat was so intense that I quickly pulled my hand away.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Near the island of Santorini,” Captain Nemo answered. “I wanted you to witness the remarkable sight of a submarine volcanic eruption.”
“I thought the creation of new islands had stopped.”
“Nothing ever ends in volcanic regions,” Captain Nemo replied. “The Earth is constantly being shaped by underground fires.”
He explained that new volcanic islands had repeatedly appeared and disappeared in this region throughout history.
In recent years, new islands had risen near Nea Kameni, including George Island and Aphroessa, formed from black volcanic lava.
“I was here when these events happened,” he said. “I was able to observe the entire process.”
“And the passage where we are now?” I asked.
“Here,” he replied, showing me a map of the Greek islands. “I marked the new islands for you.”
I looked back through the glass.
The Nautilus had stopped moving.
The heat was becoming unbearable.
The white sea had turned red because of iron salts in the water.
Although the vessel was completely sealed, the terrible smell of sulfur filled the saloon.
The electric lights seemed dim compared with the bright red flames outside.
I felt as though I were trapped inside a boiling furnace.
“We cannot stay here any longer,” I said.
“It would not be wise,” Captain Nemo replied calmly.
An order was given.
The Nautilus turned away and escaped from the deadly waters.
Fifteen minutes later, we were breathing fresh air on the surface.
Then I suddenly realized something.
If Ned Land had chosen this area for our escape, we would never have survived that ocean of fire.
The next day, February 16, we left the deep waters between Rhodes and Alexandria, an area nearly fifteen hundred fathoms deep.
Passing near Cerigo and rounding Cape Matapan, the Nautilus finally left the Greek Archipelago behind.