No one among us would ever forget what happened on April 20th.
I wrote down the events while my emotions were still overwhelming me. Later, I went back and revised the account carefully. I read it to Conseil and Ned Land. They agreed that the facts were accurate, but they felt that my words were not powerful enough to express the horror of that moment.
A scene like that could only be described properly by the pen of a great poet, someone like the famous author of The Toilers of the Deep.
I had already mentioned that Captain Nemo had cried while watching the waves. His sorrow was deep and impossible to hide.
It was the second member of his crew that we had lost since boarding the Nautilus.
And what a terrible death it had been.
The unfortunate man had been crushed, suffocated, and torn apart by the terrifying arms of a giant octopus. The creature’s powerful jaws had broken him apart, and unlike his companions, he would never rest in the peaceful coral cemetery beneath the sea.
What hurt me most was the final cry he had made during the struggle.
The poor Frenchman had forgotten the strange language used by the crew of the Nautilus. In his final moment, he had returned to his own mother tongue and cried out for help in French.
Among all these men who shared Captain Nemo’s life and destiny, among this mysterious group of people from different nations who had rejected the human world, I had discovered that I had a fellow countryman.
Was he the only representative of France in this secret underwater society?
It was another unanswered question that constantly troubled my mind.
Captain Nemo returned to his private room, and I did not see him again for some time.
But even without seeing him, I could feel his sadness and uncertainty.
The Nautilus was more than a machine. It was the reflection of its master’s soul. Every change in Captain Nemo’s feelings appeared to affect the submarine itself.
It no longer followed a clear course.
It drifted aimlessly, like a dead body floating on the waves.
The Captain seemed unable to leave the place where the terrible battle had happened—the same sea that had taken one of his men away forever.
For ten days, the Nautilus wandered without purpose.
It was not until May 1st that we finally began moving north again.
By then, we had passed near the Bahamas and entered the waters where one of the greatest ocean currents on Earth flows from the continent toward the sea.
I mean the Gulf Stream.
The Gulf Stream is not simply a current.
It is almost a river flowing through the ocean.
Its waters travel across the Atlantic without immediately mixing with the surrounding sea. It is a river of salt water, even saltier than the ocean around it.
Its average depth reaches about 1,500 fathoms, and its width is around ten miles.
In some places, it moves at a speed of two and a half miles per hour.
The amount of water carried by this enormous ocean river is greater than that of all the rivers on Earth combined.
And now the Nautilus was sailing along this mighty current.
At night, the glowing waters of the Gulf Stream became a breathtaking sight.
The waves shone with a strange blue light, sometimes brighter than the electric lamp we used inside the submarine.
This effect became even more impressive when storms approached, which happened frequently in that region.
On May 8th, we were still following the Gulf Stream near Cape Hatteras, off the coast of North Carolina.
There, the current was about seventy-five miles wide and reached a depth of nearly two hundred and ten yards.
The Nautilus continued moving without a clear destination.
It seemed that all control had been abandoned.
I began to think that perhaps this was our chance to escape.
The American coast was close.
There were many places where we could land safely. Ships constantly traveled between New York, Boston, and the Gulf of Mexico. Small sailing boats moved along the coastline day and night.
If we escaped, there was a chance that we could be rescued.
It was the perfect opportunity.
The only problem was that the Nautilus was still about thirty miles from the American shore.
Unfortunately, another danger ruined Ned Land’s plan.
The weather had become extremely violent.
We were approaching the coast where storms were common—a region famous for waterspouts and hurricanes created by the powerful Gulf Stream.
Trying to escape in a small boat under those conditions would almost certainly mean death.
Even Ned Land admitted this.
But his impatience continued growing. Only freedom could cure his longing for home.
That day, he came to me and said:
“Professor, this cannot continue any longer. I have to tell you the truth. Nemo is heading north again.”
He clenched his fists.
“But I have had enough of this journey. I have had enough of the South Pole, and I swear I will not follow him to the North.”
I looked at him.
“What can we do, Ned? Escaping is impossible right now.”
“We must talk to the Captain,” he replied.
“You said nothing when we were near your homeland. Now we are approaching mine.”
His voice became filled with emotion.
“When I think that soon the Nautilus may be near Nova Scotia, and that beyond there lies Newfoundland, and near Newfoundland there is a great bay where the St. Lawrence River flows into the sea…”
He stopped for a moment.
“That river is my river. The river that runs past Quebec, my hometown.”
His eyes burned with frustration.
“When I think about that, I feel like I am losing my mind. I would rather throw myself into the ocean than remain trapped here.”
He struck his chest.
“I cannot stay here anymore. I feel like I am suffocating!”
Ned Land was clearly reaching the limit of his endurance.
His strong, independent nature could not accept such a long imprisonment.
Every day, his face looked more troubled. His temper became darker and more aggressive.
I understood his suffering because I felt the same homesickness.
Nearly seven months had passed since we had received any news from the outside world.
Captain Nemo’s isolation, his changed mood after the battle with the octopus, and his increasing silence had all caused me to reconsider our situation.
“Well, sir?” Ned asked when he saw that I remained silent.
“Ned,” I said, “do you want me to ask Captain Nemo what he intends to do with us?”
“Yes.”
“Even though he already told us his decision?”
“Yes. I want a final answer.”
He looked at me seriously.
“Speak for me if you want. Tell him what I think.”
“But I rarely see him now. He avoids me.”
“Then that is even more reason for you to visit him.”
I returned to my room.
I decided that I had to speak with Captain Nemo.
This opportunity might never come again.
I walked to his door and knocked.
There was no answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
I turned the handle and entered.
Captain Nemo was inside.
He was leaning over his desk, completely focused on his work. He had not heard me enter.
Determined not to leave without speaking to him, I stepped forward.
He suddenly raised his head.
His expression changed immediately.
He frowned and said coldly:
“You?”
He looked annoyed.
“What do you want?”
“I need to speak with you, Captain.”
“But I am busy, sir. I am working.”
His voice became sharper.
“I allow you to close yourself away whenever you wish. Cannot I have the same freedom?”
His welcome was not encouraging.
But I had already decided that I would not retreat.
“Captain,” I said calmly, “I must discuss something with you that cannot be delayed.”
His expression turned slightly mocking.
“And what is this urgent matter?”
“Have you discovered something that escaped my attention? Has the sea revealed another secret to you?”
We were clearly misunderstanding each other.
Before I could answer, he pointed toward a manuscript lying open on his desk.
His tone suddenly became serious.
“Look, Monsieur Aronnax. This manuscript contains my studies of the sea.”
He touched the pages carefully.
“It is written in several languages. It contains the complete record of my research.”
He paused.
“And if fate allows, it will not disappear with me.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“This manuscript, signed with my name and containing the story of my life, will be placed inside a small floating container.”
His eyes became distant.
“The last surviving member of the Nautilus will throw it into the ocean.”
He looked toward the sea outside.
“Then it will travel wherever the waves carry it.”
I stared at him.
His name.
His history.
His secrets.
All written by his own hand.
One day, the world might finally discover the truth about Captain Nemo.
I said:
“Captain, I understand your desire to preserve your work. Your discoveries deserve to survive.”
“But your method seems uncertain. Who knows where the ocean currents will carry this container, or who might eventually find it?”
“Could you not use another method? Could you not allow someone else to keep it safe?”
“Never!”
He interrupted me immediately.
I continued:
“My companions and I would gladly protect this manuscript.”
“And if you would allow us to leave—”
“Leave?”
Captain Nemo suddenly stood up.
“Yes,” I replied.
“That is exactly what I came to discuss.”
“We have been aboard the Nautilus for seven months. Today, on behalf of myself and my companions, I ask you directly…”
“Do you intend to keep us here forever?”
Captain Nemo looked at me without emotion.
“Monsieur Aronnax, my answer today is the same as it was seven months ago.”
“Anyone who enters the Nautilus must never leave it.”
I stared at him.
“You are making prisoners of us.”
“Call it whatever you wish.”
“But every prisoner has the right to regain his freedom.”
“Who has denied you that right?”
He crossed his arms.
“Have I ever forced you to swear loyalty to me?”
I continued:
“Captain, I know this subject is unpleasant for both of us. But since we have begun, we should finish the discussion.”
“I am not speaking only about myself.”
“My scientific studies give me purpose. They allow me to forget the outside world.”
“Like you, I could accept living in isolation if I believed my work might someday benefit future generations.”
“But Ned Land is different.”
“Every human being deserves to have his feelings considered.”
“Have you thought that a man who values freedom above everything else might eventually become desperate?”
“That he might begin to plan, attempt, and try to—”
I stopped.
Captain Nemo had risen.
“Whatever Ned Land thinks or attempts, why should I care?”
His voice was cold.
“I did not invite him here.”
“I do not keep him aboard for my own pleasure.”
Then he looked directly at me.
“As for you, Monsieur Aronnax, you are one of those rare people who can understand everything—even silence.”
“I have nothing more to say.”
“Let this be the first and last time we discuss this matter.”
“I will not listen to it again.”
I left.
Our situation had become extremely serious.
I told Conseil and Ned everything that had happened.
Ned listened silently.
Then he finally said:
“Now we know.”
He looked toward the ocean.
“We cannot expect anything from this man.”
“The Nautilus is approaching Long Island.”
“We will escape, no matter what the weather is like.”
But the sky was becoming darker by the hour.
The signs of a terrible storm were appearing.
The air turned pale and heavy.
Thin clouds stretched across the horizon, followed by thick masses of storm clouds.
Low clouds rushed rapidly overhead.
The sea rose into enormous waves.
The birds disappeared, except for the storm-loving petrels.
The barometer continued falling.
Everything announced the coming hurricane.
The storm finally arrived on May 18th, while the Nautilus was floating near Long Island, only a few miles from New York Harbor.
And Captain Nemo did something completely unexpected.
Instead of diving deep beneath the ocean to avoid the storm, he chose to face it on the surface.
He seemed almost eager to challenge the fury of nature.