________________________________________________
_ WE HAD FINALLY arrived on the outskirts of this forest,
surely one of the finest in Captain Nemo's immense domains.
He regarded it as his own and had laid the same claim to it that,
in the first days of the world, the first men had to their forests
on land. Besides, who else could dispute his ownership of this
underwater property? What other, bolder pioneer would come,
ax in hand, to clear away its dark underbrush?
This forest was made up of big treelike plants, and when we
entered beneath their huge arches, my eyes were instantly struck
by the unique arrangement of their branches--an arrangement that I
had never before encountered.
None of the weeds carpeting the seafloor, none of the branches bristling
from the shrubbery, crept, or leaned, or stretched on a horizontal plane.
They all rose right up toward the surface of the ocean.
Every filament or ribbon, no matter how thin, stood ramrod straight.
Fucus plants and creepers were growing in stiff perpendicular lines,
governed by the density of the element that generated them.
After I parted them with my hands, these otherwise motionless
plants would shoot right back to their original positions.
It was the regime of verticality.
I soon grew accustomed to this bizarre arrangement, likewise to
the comparative darkness surrounding us. The seafloor in this forest
was strewn with sharp chunks of stone that were hard to avoid.
Here the range of underwater flora seemed pretty comprehensive to me,
as well as more abundant than it might have been in the arctic
or tropical zones, where such exhibits are less common.
But for a few minutes I kept accidentally confusing the two kingdoms,
mistaking zoophytes for water plants, animals for vegetables.
And who hasn't made the same blunder? Flora and fauna are so closely
associated in the underwater world!
I observed that all these exhibits from the vegetable kingdom
were attached to the seafloor by only the most makeshift methods.
They had no roots and didn't care which solid objects
secured them, sand, shells, husks, or pebbles; they didn't
ask their hosts for sustenance, just a point of purchase.
These plants are entirely self-propagating, and the principle of
their existence lies in the water that sustains and nourishes them.
In place of leaves, most of them sprouted blades of unpredictable shape,
which were confined to a narrow gamut of colors consisting only
of pink, crimson, green, olive, tan, and brown. There I saw again,
but not yet pressed and dried like the Nautilus's specimens,
some peacock's tails spread open like fans to stir up a cooling breeze,
scarlet rosetangle, sea tangle stretching out their young and
edible shoots, twisting strings of kelp from the genus Nereocystis
that bloomed to a height of fifteen meters, bouquets of mermaid's cups
whose stems grew wider at the top, and a number of other open-sea plants,
all without flowers. "It's an odd anomaly in this bizarre element!"
as one witty naturalist puts it. "The animal kingdom blossoms,
and the vegetable kingdom doesn't!"
These various types of shrubbery were as big as trees in the
temperate zones; in the damp shade between them, there were clustered
actual bushes of moving flowers, hedges of zoophytes in which there
grew stony coral striped with twisting furrows, yellowish sea anemone
from the genus Caryophylia with translucent tentacles, plus anemone
with grassy tufts from the genus Zoantharia; and to complete the illusion,
minnows flitted from branch to branch like a swarm of hummingbirds,
while there rose underfoot, like a covey of snipe, yellow fish
from the genus Lepisocanthus with bristling jaws and sharp scales,
flying gurnards, and pinecone fish.
Near one o'clock, Captain Nemo gave the signal to halt.
Speaking for myself, I was glad to oblige, and we stretched out
beneath an arbor of winged kelp, whose long thin tendrils stood
up like arrows.
This short break was a delight. It lacked only the charm
of conversation. But it was impossible to speak, impossible to reply.
I simply nudged my big copper headpiece against Conseil's headpiece.
I saw a happy gleam in the gallant lad's eyes, and to communicate
his pleasure, he jiggled around inside his carapace in the
world's silliest way.
After four hours of strolling, I was quite astonished not
to feel any intense hunger. What kept my stomach in such a
good mood I'm unable to say. But, in exchange, I experienced
that irresistible desire for sleep that comes over every diver.
Accordingly, my eyes soon closed behind their heavy glass windows
and I fell into an uncontrollable doze, which until then I had been
able to fight off only through the movements of our walking.
Captain Nemo and his muscular companion were already stretched
out in this clear crystal, setting us a fine naptime example.
How long I was sunk in this torpor I cannot estimate; but when I awoke,
it seemed as if the sun were settling toward the horizon.
Captain Nemo was already up, and I had started to stretch my limbs,
when an unexpected apparition brought me sharply to my feet.
A few paces away, a monstrous, meter-high sea spider was
staring at me with beady eyes, poised to spring at me.
Although my diving suit was heavy enough to protect me from this
animal's bites, I couldn't keep back a shudder of horror.
Just then Conseil woke up, together with the Nautilus's sailor.
Captain Nemo alerted his companion to this hideous crustacean,
which a swing of the rifle butt quickly brought down, and I watched
the monster's horrible legs writhing in dreadful convulsions.
This encounter reminded me that other, more daunting animals must
be lurking in these dark reaches, and my diving suit might not be
adequate protection against their attacks. Such thoughts hadn't
previously crossed my mind, and I was determined to keep on my guard.
Meanwhile I had assumed this rest period would be the turning point
in our stroll, but I was mistaken; and instead of heading back
to the Nautilus, Captain Nemo continued his daring excursion.
The seafloor kept sinking, and its significantly steeper slope took
us to greater depths. It must have been nearly three o'clock when we
reached a narrow valley gouged between high, vertical walls and
located 150 meters down. Thanks to the perfection of our equipment,
we had thus gone ninety meters below the limit that nature had,
until then, set on man's underwater excursions.
I say 150 meters, although I had no instruments for estimating
this distance. But I knew that the sun's rays, even in
the clearest seas, could reach no deeper. So at precisely
this point the darkness became profound. Not a single object
was visible past ten paces. Consequently, I had begun to grope
my way when suddenly I saw the glow of an intense white light.
Captain Nemo had just activated his electric device.
His companion did likewise. Conseil and I followed suit.
By turning a switch, I established contact between the induction
coil and the glass spiral, and the sea, lit up by our four lanterns,
was illuminated for a radius of twenty-five meters.
Captain Nemo continued to plummet into the dark depths of this forest,
whose shrubbery grew ever more sparse. I observed that vegetable
life was disappearing more quickly than animal life. The open-sea
plants had already left behind the increasingly arid seafloor,
where a prodigious number of animals were still swarming:
zoophytes, articulates, mollusks, and fish.
While we were walking, I thought the lights of our Ruhmkorff devices
would automatically attract some inhabitants of these dark strata.
But if they did approach us, at least they kept at a distance regrettable
from the hunter's standpoint. Several times I saw Captain Nemo stop
and take aim with his rifle; then, after sighting down its barrel
for a few seconds, he would straighten up and resume his walk.
Finally, at around four o'clock, this marvelous excursion came to an end.
A wall of superb rocks stood before us, imposing in its sheer mass:
a pile of gigantic stone blocks, an enormous granite cliffside pitted
with dark caves but not offering a single gradient we could climb up.
This was the underpinning of Crespo Island. This was land.
The captain stopped suddenly. A gesture from him brought us to a halt,
and however much I wanted to clear this wall, I had to stop.
Here ended the domains of Captain Nemo. He had no desire to pass
beyond them. Farther on lay a part of the globe he would no
longer tread underfoot.
Our return journey began. Captain Nemo resumed the lead
in our little band, always heading forward without hesitation.
I noted that we didn't follow the same path in returning to
the Nautilus. This new route, very steep and hence very arduous,
quickly took us close to the surface of the sea. But this
return to the upper strata wasn't so sudden that decompression
took place too quickly, which could have led to serious organic
disorders and given us those internal injuries so fatal to divers.
With great promptness, the light reappeared and grew stronger;
and the refraction of the sun, already low on the horizon, again ringed
the edges of various objects with the entire color spectrum.
At a depth of ten meters, we walked amid a swarm of small fish from
every species, more numerous than birds in the air, more agile too;
but no aquatic game worthy of a gunshot had yet been offered
to our eyes.
Just then I saw the captain's weapon spring to his shoulder
and track a moving object through the bushes. A shot went off,
I heard a faint hissing, and an animal dropped a few paces away,
literally struck by lightning.
It was a magnificent sea otter from the genus Enhydra, the only
exclusively marine quadruped. One and a half meters long, this otter
had to be worth a good high price. Its coat, chestnut brown above and
silver below, would have made one of those wonderful fur pieces so much
in demand in the Russian and Chinese markets; the fineness and luster
of its pelt guaranteed that it would go for at least 2,000 francs.
I was full of wonderment at this unusual mammal, with its circular
head adorned by short ears, its round eyes, its white whiskers
like those on a cat, its webbed and clawed feet, its bushy tail.
Hunted and trapped by fishermen, this valuable carnivore has become
extremely rare, and it takes refuge chiefly in the northernmost
parts of the Pacific, where in all likelihood its species will soon
be facing extinction.
Captain Nemo's companion picked up the animal, loaded it on his shoulder,
and we took to the trail again.
For an hour plains of sand unrolled before our steps.
Often the seafloor rose to within two meters of the surface of the water.
I could then see our images clearly mirrored on the underside
of the waves, but reflected upside down: above us there appeared
an identical band that duplicated our every movement and gesture;
in short, a perfect likeness of the quartet near which it walked,
but with heads down and feet in the air.
Another unusual effect. Heavy clouds passed above us, forming and
fading swiftly. But after thinking it over, I realized that these
so-called clouds were caused simply by the changing densities of
the long ground swells, and I even spotted the foaming "white caps"
that their breaking crests were proliferating over the surface
of the water. Lastly, I couldn't help seeing the actual shadows
of large birds passing over our heads, swiftly skimming the surface
of the sea.
On this occasion I witnessed one of the finest gunshots ever to
thrill the marrow of a hunter. A large bird with a wide wingspan,
quite clearly visible, approached and hovered over us. When it was just a
few meters above the waves, Captain Nemo's companion took aim and fired.
The animal dropped, electrocuted, and its descent brought it within
reach of our adroit hunter, who promptly took possession of it.
It was an albatross of the finest species, a wonderful specimen
of these open-sea fowl.
This incident did not interrupt our walk. For two hours we were
sometimes led over plains of sand, sometimes over prairies of seaweed
that were quite arduous to cross. In all honesty, I was dead tired
by the time I spotted a hazy glow half a mile away, cutting through
the darkness of the waters. It was the Nautilus's beacon.
Within twenty minutes we would be on board, and there I could
breathe easy again--because my tank's current air supply seemed
to be quite low in oxygen. But I was reckoning without an encounter
that slightly delayed our arrival.
I was lagging behind some twenty paces when I saw Captain Nemo suddenly
come back toward me. With his powerful hands he sent me buckling
to the ground, while his companion did the same to Conseil. At first I
didn't know what to make of this sudden assault, but I was reassured
to observe the captain lying motionless beside me.
I was stretched out on the seafloor directly beneath some bushes of algae,
when I raised my head and spied two enormous masses hurtling by,
throwing off phosphorescent glimmers.
My blood turned cold in my veins! I saw that we were under threat from
a fearsome pair of sharks. They were blue sharks, dreadful man-eaters
with enormous tails, dull, glassy stares, and phosphorescent matter
oozing from holes around their snouts. They were like monstrous
fireflies that could thoroughly pulverize a man in their iron jaws!
I don't know if Conseil was busy with their classification,
but as for me, I looked at their silver bellies, their fearsome
mouths bristling with teeth, from a viewpoint less than scientific--
more as a victim than as a professor of natural history.
Luckily these voracious animals have poor eyesight. They went
by without noticing us, grazing us with their brownish fins;
and miraculously, we escaped a danger greater than encountering
a tiger deep in the jungle.
Half an hour later, guided by its electric trail, we reached
the Nautilus. The outside door had been left open, and Captain Nemo
closed it after we reentered the first cell. Then he pressed a button.
I heard pumps operating within the ship, I felt the water lowering
around me, and in a few moments the cell was completely empty.
The inside door opened, and we passed into the wardrobe.
There our diving suits were removed, not without difficulty;
and utterly exhausted, faint from lack of food and rest, I repaired
to my stateroom, full of wonder at this startling excursion on
the bottom of the sea. _
Read next: FIRST PART: Chapter 18. Four Thousand Leagues Under the Pacific
Read previous: FIRST PART: Chapter 16. Strolling the Plains
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