The terrible sight we had just witnessed was only the beginning of a long series of shipwrecks that the Nautilus would encounter during its journey.
As long as we traveled through busy ocean routes, we often saw the remains of sunken ships lying in the depths. Their wooden hulls had already decayed, while farther below rested cannons, bullets, anchors, chains, and countless other iron objects slowly being destroyed by rust.
On December 11, we reached the Pomotou Islands, the old “Dangerous Archipelago” named by Bougainville.
This chain of islands stretched for nearly 500 leagues from Ducie Island in the southeast to Lazareff Island in the northwest. It covered an area of about 370 square leagues and contained sixty groups of islands. Among them, the Gambier Islands were especially notable, as they were under French control.
These islands were built from coral, slowly rising from the sea through the endless work of tiny creatures.
One day, when I explained my belief that these coral formations might eventually connect with neighboring islands and create a new continent stretching from New Zealand and New Caledonia toward the Marquesas Islands, Captain Nemo answered coldly:
“The Earth does not need new continents, but new men.”
The Nautilus happened to approach Clermont-Tonnerre Island, one of the most interesting islands in this group. It had been discovered in 1822 by Captain Bell of the Minerva.
At last, I had the chance to study the madreporic formations that created so many islands throughout this ocean.
Madrepores, which should not be confused with ordinary coral, have bodies protected by a limestone structure. Because of the differences in their forms, my respected teacher M. Milne Edwards had divided them into five groups.
Millions of tiny marine animals lived inside their small chambers. Their secretions hardened into limestone, gradually forming rocks, reefs, and entire islands.
Sometimes they created circular reefs surrounding a small inner lagoon connected to the sea by narrow openings.
Sometimes they formed massive barrier reefs, like those around New Caledonia and many of the Pomotou Islands.
In other places, such as Réunion and Mauritius, they built fringing reefs—great walls of coral rising near shores where the ocean suddenly became extremely deep.
A few cable lengths from the coast of Clermont-Tonnerre, I admired this enormous work created by creatures almost invisible to the human eye.
These structures were mainly formed by milleporas, porites, madrepores, and astraeas.
These tiny builders lived especially in rough areas of the sea near the surface. They began their work from the upper layers and slowly buried themselves beneath the remains of their own secretions.
This was, at least, Darwin’s explanation for the formation of atolls. In my opinion, his theory was much more convincing than the older idea that these coral structures were simply the tops of mountains or volcanoes that had sunk beneath the ocean.
I was able to observe these strange walls closely.
They descended more than 300 yards vertically, and the electric lights of the Nautilus illuminated the white limestone brilliantly.
Conseil asked me how long it took for such enormous barriers to form.
I surprised him by explaining that scientists estimated their growth at only about one-eighth of an inch every hundred years.
By evening, Clermont-Tonnerre disappeared behind us, and the course of the Nautilus changed noticeably.
After crossing the Tropic of Capricorn at longitude 135°, we sailed northwest, heading back toward tropical waters.
Although the summer sun was intense, we did not suffer from the heat. Fifteen or twenty fathoms below the surface, the temperature remained between ten and twelve degrees Celsius.
On December 15, we passed east of the beautiful Society Islands and the graceful island of Tahiti, the queen of the Pacific.
That morning, several miles away, I could see the high peaks of the island rising above the horizon.
The surrounding waters provided us with excellent food—mackerel, bonito, and several strange varieties of sea snakes.
On December 25, Christmas Day, the Nautilus entered the waters of the New Hebrides.
These islands had been discovered by Quiros in 1606, explored by Bougainville in 1768, and given their present name by Cook in 1773.
The group consisted mainly of nine large islands forming a chain stretching for about 120 leagues between 15° and 2° south latitude and between 164° and 168° longitude.
We passed fairly close to Aurou Island, which at noon appeared like a huge mass of green forest crowned by a very high mountain peak.
That day was Christmas.
Ned Land seemed deeply disappointed that we could not celebrate the holiday, a family festival especially loved by Protestants.
I had not seen Captain Nemo for a week.
Then, on the morning of December 27, he entered the great saloon as calmly as if we had only seen each other five minutes earlier.
I was busy drawing the route of the Nautilus on a map.
The Captain approached me, placed his finger on one point of the chart, and spoke one word:
“Vanikoro.”
The effect of that name was extraordinary.
It was the island where La Perouse had disappeared.
I immediately stood up.
“The Nautilus has brought us to Vanikoro?” I asked.
“Yes, Professor,” replied Captain Nemo.
“And I can visit the famous islands where the Boussole and the Astrolabe were lost?”
“If you wish, Professor.”
“When will we arrive?”
“We are already here.”
I followed Captain Nemo onto the platform and eagerly searched the horizon.
To the northeast, two volcanic islands appeared, different in size and surrounded by a coral reef nearly forty miles in circumference.
We were near Vanikoro, the island later named Isle de la Recherche by Dumont d’Urville.
The island stood directly opposite the small harbor of Vanou, located at 16°4′ south latitude and 164°32′ east longitude.
The entire land was covered with green vegetation, from the shore to the mountains in the center. Above everything rose Mount Kapogo, 476 feet high.
After passing through a narrow opening in the outer coral barrier, the Nautilus entered waters where the depth was thirty to forty fathoms.
Beneath the shadow of mangrove trees, I saw several natives watching us with great surprise.
Perhaps they believed that the long black shape moving between the waves was some enormous sea creature approaching their island.
At that moment, Captain Nemo asked me what I knew about the wreck of La Perouse.
“Only what everyone knows, Captain,” I answered.
“Then tell me what everyone knows,” he said with a slight touch of irony.
“Gladly.”
I then explained everything discovered through the later investigations of Dumont d’Urville.
La Perouse and his second-in-command, Captain de Langle, had been sent by King Louis XVI in 1785 to complete a voyage around the world.
They sailed in two ships, the Boussole and the Astrolabe.
Neither ship was ever heard from again.
In 1791, the French government, deeply concerned about their disappearance, sent two vessels, the Recherche and the Esperance, under the command of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux, to search for them.
Two months later, they received information from Captain Bowen of the Albemarle that wreckage had been seen near the coast of New Georgia.
However, d’Entrecasteaux ignored this uncertain report and followed another clue that pointed toward the Admiralty Islands.
The search failed.
The Esperance and the Recherche passed near Vanikoro without stopping.
The expedition itself ended tragically. D’Entrecasteaux died, along with two of his officers and many members of his crew.
The first person to discover clear evidence of La Perouse’s fate was Captain Dillon, an experienced Pacific sailor.
On May 15, 1824, his ship, the St. Patrick, passed near Tikopia, one of the New Hebrides Islands.
A Lascar sailor approached him in a canoe and sold him a silver sword handle engraved with mysterious characters.
The sailor claimed that six years earlier, while staying at Vanikoro, he had seen two Europeans who belonged to ships that had been wrecked on the reefs nearby.
Dillon immediately suspected that he was hearing about La Perouse.
He wanted to sail to Vanikoro, but wind and currents prevented him.
After returning to Calcutta, he informed the Asiatic Society and the East India Company of his discovery.
They provided him with a ship named the Recherche, and on January 23, 1827, he sailed again, accompanied by a French agent.
After stopping at several Pacific locations, the Recherche anchored before Vanikoro on July 7, 1827, in the very same harbor of Vanou where the Nautilus now rested.
There Dillon discovered many remains of the wrecks:
Iron tools.
Anchors.
Pulley blocks.
Swivel guns.
An eighteen-pound cannonball.
Fragments of astronomical instruments.
A piece of royal decoration.
And a bronze clock marked:
“Bazin m’a fait.”
This was the signature of the Brest arsenal foundry from around 1785.
There could no longer be any doubt.
Dillon continued his investigation until October, then left Vanikoro and returned to France.
He was warmly received by King Charles X.
But at the same time, without knowing Dillon’s progress, Dumont d’Urville had already begun his own search.
A whaler had reported that medals and a Cross of Saint Louis had been found among natives of Louisiade and New Caledonia.
Dumont d’Urville, commander of the Astrolabe, followed these clues.
When he reached Hobart Town, he learned about Dillon’s discoveries and decided to follow his path.
On February 10, 1828, the Astrolabe reached Tikopia.
Dumont d’Urville found a deserter there who acted as guide and interpreter.
They reached Vanikoro on February 12 and waited among the reefs until February 20, when they finally entered Vanou Harbor.
Several officers explored the island on February 23 but found only insignificant objects.
The natives refused to reveal the location of the wreck.
Their strange behavior made the French believe that the survivors of La Perouse might have been mistreated and that the islanders feared revenge.
However, after receiving gifts and realizing that they had nothing to fear, the natives finally led M. Jacquireot to the wreck site.
There, in only three or four fathoms of water between the Pacou and Vanou reefs, they found anchors, cannons, and pieces of iron and lead buried inside coral formations.
The boats of the Astrolabe recovered an anchor weighing 1,800 pounds, a bronze cannon, several pieces of iron, and two copper swivel guns.
From questioning the natives, Dumont d’Urville learned that after losing both ships, La Perouse had built a smaller vessel from the wreckage.
That vessel disappeared as well.
No one knew where.
The French government, worried that Dumont d’Urville might not know about Dillon’s discoveries, sent another ship, the Bayonnaise, commanded by Legoarant de Tromelin.
It arrived months later but found no new evidence.
It only confirmed that the natives had respected the monument dedicated to La Perouse.
That was the complete story I told Captain Nemo.
“So,” he said, “no one knows where the third vessel built by the survivors finally disappeared?”
“No one knows,” I replied.
Captain Nemo remained silent.
Then he motioned for me to follow him into the large saloon.
The Nautilus sank several yards beneath the waves, and the panels opened.
I hurried to the glass opening.
Below us, beneath layers of coral covered with sea plants, fungi, and countless beautiful fish, I saw the remains that even the dredging equipment had failed to recover.
Iron supports.
Anchors.
Cannons.
Cannonballs.
Capstan parts.
And the broken bow of a ship.
Everything clearly proved that a vessel had been destroyed there.
Now those ruins were covered with living flowers of the sea.
As I stared at this underwater graveyard, Captain Nemo spoke in a quiet and sorrowful voice:
“Commander La Perouse left France on December 7, 1785, with his ships, the Boussole and the Astrolabe.”
“He first stopped at Botany Bay, visited the Friendly Islands and New Caledonia, then sailed toward Santa Cruz and reached Namouka in the Hapai group.”
“After that, his ships struck the unknown reefs of Vanikoro.”
“The Boussole, sailing ahead, crashed on the southern coast.”
“The Astrolabe went to help her and was wrecked as well.”
“The first ship was destroyed almost immediately.”
“The second survived for several days.”
“The natives welcomed the survivors.”
“They settled on the island and built a smaller boat using materials from the two lost ships.”
“Some sailors chose to remain at Vanikoro.”
“The others, weakened by illness and hardship, left with La Perouse.”
“They sailed toward the Solomon Islands and disappeared forever on the western coast of the main island, between Cape Deception and Cape Satisfaction.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Because I found this at the final wreck site.”
Captain Nemo showed me a small metal box marked with the French royal emblem.
Saltwater had damaged it badly.
He opened it.
Inside was a collection of papers, yellow with age but still readable.
They were the instructions given by the French navy minister to Commander La Perouse, with notes written in the handwriting of King Louis XVI himself.
“Ah,” Captain Nemo finally said.
“It was a noble death for a sailor.”
“A coral tomb is a peaceful grave.”
“And I hope that my companions and I will never find another.”