The Mysterious Island
event of a crisis coming on, but the dying man refused, saying, “I shall
live until to-morrow, sir.”
All left the saloon, passed through the library and the dining-room, and
arrived forward, in the machine-room where the electrical apparatus was
established, which supplied not only heat and light, but the mechanical
power of the “Nautilus.”
The “Nautilus” was a masterpiece containing masterpieces within itself,
and the engineer was struck with astonishment.
The colonists mounted the platform, which rose seven or eight feet above
the water. There they beheld a thick glass lenticular covering, which
protected a kind of large eye, from which flashed forth light. Behind
this eye was apparently a cabin containing the wheels of the rudder, and
in which was stationed the helmsman, when he navigated the “Nautilus”
over the bed of the ocean, which the electric rays would evidently light
up to a considerable distance.
Cyrus Harding and his companions remained for a time silent, for they
were vividly impressed by what they had just seen and heard, and their
hearts were deeply touched by the thought that he whose arm had so often
aided them, the protector whom they had known but a few hours, was at
the point of death.
Whatever might be the judgment pronounced by posterity upon the events
of this, so to speak, extra-human existence, the character of Prince
Dakkar would ever remain as one of those whose memory time can never
efface.
“What a man!” said Pencroft. “Is it possible that he can have lived at
the bottom of the sea? And it seems to me that perhaps he has not found
peace there any more than elsewhere!”
“The ‘Nautilus,’” observed Ayrton, “might have enabled us to leave
Lincoln Island and reach some inhabited country.”
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Pencroft, “I for one would never risk myself
in such a craft. To sail on the seas, good, but under the seas, never!”
“I believe, Pencroft,” answered the reporter, “that the navigation of a
submarine vessel such as the ‘Nautilus’ ought to be very easy, and that
we should soon become accustomed to it. There would be no storms, no
lee-shore to fear. At some feet beneath the surface the waters of the
ocean are as calm as those of a lake.”
“That may be,” replied the sailor, “but I prefer a gale of wind on
board a well-found craft. A vessel is built to sail on the sea, and not
beneath it.”
“My friends,” said the engineer, “it is useless, at any rate as regards
the ‘Nautilus,’ to discuss the question of submarine vessels. The
‘Nautilus’ is not ours, and we have not the right to dispose of it.
Moreover, we could in no case avail ourselves of it. Independently of
the fact that it would be impossible to get it out of this cavern, whose
entrance is now closed by the uprising of the basaltic rocks, Captain
Nemo’s wish is that it shall be buried with him. His wish is our law,
and we will fulfil it.”
After a somewhat prolonged conversation, Cyrus Harding and his
companions again descended to the interior of the “Nautilus.” There they
took some refreshment and returned to the saloon.
Captain Nemo had somewhat rallied from the prostration which had
overcome him, and his eyes shone with their wonted fire. A faint smile
even curled his lips.
The colonists drew around him.
“Gentlemen,” said the captain, “you are brave and honest men. You
have devoted yourselves to the common weal. Often have I observed
your conduct. I have esteemed you--I esteem you still! Your hand, Mr.
Harding.”
Cyrus Harding gave his hand to the captain, who clasped it
affectionately.
“It is well!” he murmured.
He resumed,--
“But enough of myself. I have to speak concerning yourselves, and this
Lincoln Island, upon which you have taken refuge. You now desire to
leave it?”
“To return, captain!” answered Pencroft quickly.
“To return, Pencroft?” said the captain, with a smile. “I know, it is
true, your love for this island. You have helped to make it what it now
is, and it seems to you a paradise!”
“Our project, captain,” interposed Cyrus Harding, “is to annex it to the
United States, and to establish for our shipping a port so fortunately
situated in this part of the Pacific.”
“Your thoughts are with your country, gentlemen,” continued the captain;
“your toils are for her prosperity and glory. You are right. One’s
native land!--there should one live! there die! And I die far from all I
loved!”
“You have some last wish to transmit,” said the engineer with emotion,
“some souvenir to send to those friends you have left in the mountains
of India?”
“No, Captain Harding; no friends remain to me! I am the last of my race,
and to all whom I have known I have long been as are the dead.--But
to return to yourselves. Solitude, isolation, are painful things, and
beyond human endurance. I die of having thought it possible to live
alone! You should, therefore, dare all in the attempt to leave Lincoln
Island, and see once more the land of your birth. I am aware that those
wretches have destroyed the vessel you have built.”
“We propose to construct a vessel,” said Gideon Spilett, “sufficiently
large to convey us to the nearest land; but if we should succeed, sooner
or later we shall return to Lincoln Island. We are attached to it by too
many recollections ever to forget it.”
“It is here that we have known Captain Nemo,” said Cyrus Harding.
“It is here only that we can make our home!” added Herbert.
“And here shall I sleep the sleep of eternity, if--” replied the
captain.
He paused for a moment, and, instead of completing the sentence, said
simply,--
“Mr. Harding, I wish to speak with you--alone!”
The engineer’s companions, respecting the wish, retired.
Cyrus Harding remained but a few minutes alone with Captain Nemo, and
soon recalled his companions; but he said nothing to them of the private
matters which the dying man had confided to him.
Gideon Spilett now watched the captain with extreme care. It was evident
that he was no longer sustained by his moral energy, which had lost the
power of reaction against his physical weakness.
The day closed without change. The colonists did not quit the “Nautilus”
for a moment. Night arrived, although it was impossible to distinguish
it from day in the cavern.
Captain Nemo suffered no pain, but he was visibly sinking. His noble
features, paled by the approach of death, were perfectly calm. Inaudible
words escaped at intervals from his lips, bearing upon various incidents
of his checkered career. Life was evidently ebbing slowly and his
extremities were already cold.
Once or twice more he spoke to the colonists who stood around him, and
smiled on them with that last smile which continues after death.
At length, shortly after midnight, Captain Nemo by a supreme effort
succeeded in folding his arms across his breast, as if wishing in that
attitude to compose himself for death.
By one o’clock his glance alone showed signs of life. A dying light
gleamed in those eyes once so brilliant. Then, murmuring the words, “God
and my country!” he quietly expired.
Cyrus Harding, bending low closed the eyes of him who had once been the
Prince Dakkar, and was now not even Captain Nemo.
Herbert and Pencroft sobbed aloud. Tears fell from Ayrton’s eyes. Neb
was on his knees by the reporter’s side, motionless as a statue.
Then Cyrus Harding, extending his hand over the forehead of the dead,
said solemnly, “May his soul be with God!” Turning to his friends, he
added, “Let us pray for him whom we have lost!”
Some hours later the colonists fulfilled the promise made to the captain
by carrying out his dying wishes.
Cyrus Harding and his companions quitted the “Nautilus,” taking with
them the only memento left them by their benefactor, the coffer which
contained wealth amounting to millions.
The marvelous saloon, still flooded with light, had been carefully
closed. The iron door leading on deck was then securely fastened in
such a manner as to prevent even a drop of water from penetrating to the
interior of the “Nautilus.”
The colonists then descended into the canoe, which was moored to the
side of the submarine vessel.
The canoe was now brought around to the stern. There, at the water-line,
were two large stop-cocks communicating with the reservoirs employed in
the submersion of the vessel.
The stop-cocks were opened, the reservoirs filled, and the “Nautilus,”
slowly sinking, disappeared beneath the surface of the lake.
But the colonists were yet able to follow its descent through the waves.
The powerful light it gave forth lighted up the translucent water, while
the cavern became gradually obscure. At length this vast effusion of
electric light faded away, and soon after the “Nautilus,” now the tomb
of Captain Nemo, reposed in its ocean bed.
Chapter 18
At break of day the colonists regained in silence the entrance of the
cavern, to which they gave the name of “Dakkar Grotto,” in memory of
Captain Nemo. It was now low-water, and they passed without difficulty
under the arcade, washed on the right by the sea.
The canoe was left here, carefully protected from the waves. As
additional precaution, Pencroft, Neb, and Ayrton drew it up on a little
beach which bordered one of the sides of the grotto, in a spot where it
could run no risk of harm.
The storm had ceased during the night. The last low mutterings of the
thunder died away in the west. Rain fell no longer, but the sky was yet
obscured by clouds. On the whole, this month of October, the first of
the southern spring, was not ushered in by satisfactory tokens, and the
wind had a tendency to shift from one point of the compass to another,
which rendered it impossible to count upon settled weather.
Cyrus Harding and his companions, on leaving Dakkar Grotto, had taken
the road to the corral. On their way Neb and Herbert were careful to
preserve the wire which had been laid down by the captain between the
corral and the grotto, and which might at a future time be of service.
The colonists spoke but little on the road. The various incidents of the
night of October 15th had left a profound impression on their minds. The
unknown being whose influence had so effectually protected them, the
man whom their imagination had endowed with supernatural powers, Captain
Nemo, was no more. His “Nautilus” and he were buried in the depths of
the abyss. To each one of them their existence seemed even more isolated
than before. They had been accustomed to count upon the intervention of
that power which existed no longer, and Gideon Spilett, and even Cyrus
Harding, could not escape this impression. Thus they maintained a
profound silence during their journey to the corral.
Towards nine in the morning the colonists arrived at Granite House.
It had been agreed that the construction of the vessel should be
actively pushed forward, and Cyrus Harding more than ever devoted his
time and labor to this object. It was impossible to divine what future
lay before them. Evidently the advantage to the colonists would be great
of having at their disposal a substantial vessel, capable of keeping the
sea even in heavy weather, and large enough to attempt, in case of
need, a voyage of some duration. Even if, when their vessel should be
completed, the colonists should not resolve to leave Lincoln Island as
yet, in order to gain either one of the Polynesian Archipelagoes of the
Pacific or the shores of New Zealand, they might at least, sooner or
later, proceed to Tabor Island, to leave there the notice relating to
Ayrton. This was a precaution rendered indispensable by the possibility
of the Scotch yacht reappearing in those seas, and it was of the highest
importance that nothing should be neglected on this point.