Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
the European museums—(I estimated its value at not less than £1000); a
common hammer-fish of the seas of New Holland, which is only procured
with difficulty; exotic buccardia of Senegal; fragile white bivalve
shells, which a breath might shatter like a soap-bubble; several
varieties of the aspirgillum of Java, a kind of calcareous tube, edged
with leafy folds, and much debated by amateurs; a whole series of
trochi, some a greenish-yellow, found in the American seas, others a
reddish-brown, natives of Australian waters; others from the Gulf of
Mexico, remarkable for their imbricated shell; stellari found in the
Southern Seas; and last, the rarest of all, the magnificent spur of New
Zealand; and every description of delicate and fragile shells to which
science has given appropriate names.
Apart, in separate compartments, were spread out chaplets of pearls of
the greatest beauty, which reflected the electric light in little
sparks of fire; pink pearls, torn from the pinna-marina of the Red Sea;
green pearls of the haliotyde iris; yellow, blue and black pearls, the
curious productions of the divers molluscs of every ocean, and certain
mussels of the water-courses of the North; lastly, several specimens of
inestimable value which had been gathered from the rarest pintadines.
Some of these pearls were larger than a pigeon’s egg, and were worth as
much, and more than that which the traveller Tavernier sold to the Shah
of Persia for three millions, and surpassed the one in the possession
of the Imaum of Muscat, which I had believed to be unrivalled in the
world.
Therefore, to estimate the value of this collection was simply
impossible. Captain Nemo must have expended millions in the acquirement
of these various specimens, and I was thinking what source he could
have drawn from, to have been able thus to gratify his fancy for
collecting, when I was interrupted by these words—
“You are examining my shells, Professor? Unquestionably they must be
interesting to a naturalist; but for me they have a far greater charm,
for I have collected them all with my own hand, and there is not a sea
on the face of the globe which has escaped my researches.”
“I can understand, Captain, the delight of wandering about in the midst
of such riches. You are one of those who have collected their treasures
themselves. No museum in Europe possesses such a collection of the
produce of the ocean. But if I exhaust all my admiration upon it, I
shall have none left for the vessel which carries it. I do not wish to
pry into your secrets; but I must confess that this _Nautilus_, with
the motive power which is confined in it, the contrivances which enable
it to be worked, the powerful agent which propels it, all excite my
curiosity to the highest pitch. I see suspended on the walls of this
room instruments of whose use I am ignorant.”
“You will find these same instruments in my own room, Professor, where
I shall have much pleasure in explaining their use to you. But first
come and inspect the cabin which is set apart for your own use. You
must see how you will be accommodated on board the _Nautilus_.”
I followed Captain Nemo, who, by one of the doors opening from each
panel of the drawing-room, regained the waist. He conducted me towards
the bow, and there I found, not a cabin, but an elegant room, with a
bed, dressing-table, and several other pieces of furniture.
I could only thank my host.
“Your room adjoins mine,” said he, opening a door, “and mine opens into
the drawing-room that we have just quitted.”
I entered the Captain’s room: it had a severe, almost a monkish,
aspect. A small iron bedstead, a table, some articles for the toilet;
the whole lighted by a skylight. No comforts, the strictest necessaries
only.
Captain Nemo pointed to a seat.
“Be so good as to sit down,” he said. I seated myself, and he began
thus:
[Illustration] Captain Nemo’s state-room
CHAPTER XI
ALL BY ELECTRICITY
“Sir,” said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments hanging on the
walls of his room, “here are the contrivances required for the
navigation of the _Nautilus_. Here, as in the drawing-room, I have them
always under my eyes, and they indicate my position and exact direction
in the middle of the ocean. Some are known to you, such as the
thermometer, which gives the internal temperature of the _Nautilus;_
the barometer, which indicates the weight of the air and foretells the
changes of the weather; the hygrometer, which marks the dryness of the
atmosphere; the storm-glass, the contents of which, by decomposing,
announce the approach of tempests; the compass, which guides my course;
the sextant, which shows the latitude by the altitude of the sun;
chronometers, by which I calculate the longitude; and glasses for day
and night, which I use to examine the points of the horizon, when the
_Nautilus_ rises to the surface of the waves.”
“These are the usual nautical instruments,” I replied, “and I know the
use of them. But these others, no doubt, answer to the particular
requirements of the _Nautilus_. This dial with the movable needle is a
manometer, is it not?”
“It is actually a manometer. But by communication with the water, whose
external pressure it indicates, it gives our depth at the same time.”
“And these other instruments, the use of which I cannot guess?”
“Here, Professor, I ought to give you some explanations. Will you be
kind enough to listen to me?”
He was silent for a few moments, then he said—
“There is a powerful agent, obedient, rapid, easy, which conforms to
every use, and reigns supreme on board my vessel. Everything is done by
means of it. It lights it, warms it, and is the soul of my mechanical
apparatus. This agent is electricity.”
“Electricity?” I cried in surprise.
“Yes, sir.”
“Nevertheless, Captain, you possess an extreme rapidity of movement,
which does not agree with the power of electricity. Until now, its
dynamic force has remained under restraint, and has only been able to
produce a small amount of power.”
“Professor,” said Captain Nemo, “my electricity is not everybody’s. You
know what sea-water is composed of. In a thousand grammes are found 96½
per cent. of water, and about 2-2/3 per cent. of chloride of sodium;
then, in a smaller quantity, chlorides of magnesium and of potassium,
bromide of magnesium, sulphate of magnesia, sulphate and carbonate of
lime. You see, then, that chloride of sodium forms a large part of it.
So it is this sodium that I extract from sea-water, and of which I
compose my ingredients. I owe all to the ocean; it produces
electricity, and electricity gives heat, light, motion, and, in a word,
life to the _Nautilus_.”
“But not the air you breathe?”
“Oh! I could manufacture the air necessary for my consumption, but it
is useless, because I go up to the surface of the water when I please.
However, if electricity does not furnish me with air to breathe, it
works at least the powerful pumps that are stored in spacious
reservoirs, and which enable me to prolong at need, and as long as I
will, my stay in the depths of the sea. It gives a uniform and
unintermittent light, which the sun does not. Now look at this clock;
it is electrical, and goes with a regularity that defies the best
chronometers. I have divided it into twenty-four hours, like the
Italian clocks, because for me there is neither night nor day, sun nor
moon, but only that factitious light that I take with me to the bottom
of the sea. Look! just now, it is ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Exactly.”
“Another application of electricity. This dial hanging in front of us
indicates the speed of the _Nautilus_. An electric thread puts it in
communication with the screw, and the needle indicates the real speed.
Look! now we are spinning along with a uniform speed of fifteen miles
an hour.”
“It is marvelous! And I see, Captain, you were right to make use of
this agent that takes the place of wind, water, and steam.”
“We have not finished, M. Aronnax,” said Captain Nemo, rising. “If you
will follow me, we will examine the stern of the _Nautilus_.”
Really, I knew already the anterior part of this submarine boat, of
which this is the exact division, starting from the ship’s head:—the
dining-room, five yards long, separated from the library by a
water-tight partition; the library, five yards long; the large
drawing-room, ten yards long, separated from the Captain’s room by a
second water-tight partition; the said room, five yards in length;
mine, two and a half yards; and, lastly a reservoir of air, seven and a
half yards, that extended to the bows. Total length thirty-five yards,
or one hundred and five feet. The partitions had doors that were shut
hermetically by means of india-rubber instruments, and they ensured the
safety of the _Nautilus_ in case of a leak.
I followed Captain Nemo through the waist, and arrived at the centre of
the boat. There was a sort of well that opened between two partitions.
An iron ladder, fastened with an iron hook to the partition, led to the
upper end. I asked the Captain what the ladder was used for.
“It leads to the small boat,” he said.
“What! have you a boat?” I exclaimed, in surprise.
“Of course; an excellent vessel, light and insubmersible, that serves
either as a fishing or as a pleasure boat.”
“But then, when you wish to embark, you are obliged to come to the
surface of the water?”
“Not at all. This boat is attached to the upper part of the hull of the
_Nautilus_, and occupies a cavity made for it. It is decked, quite
water-tight, and held together by solid bolts. This ladder leads to a
man-hole made in the hull of the _Nautilus_, that corresponds with a
similar hole made in the side of the boat. By this double opening I get
into the small vessel. They shut the one belonging to the _Nautilus;_ I
shut the other by means of screw pressure. I undo the bolts, and the
little boat goes up to the surface of the sea with prodigious rapidity.
I then open the panel of the bridge, carefully shut till then; I mast
it, hoist my sail, take my oars, and I’m off.”
“But how do you get back on board?”
“I do not come back, M. Aronnax; the _Nautilus_ comes to me.”
“By your orders?”
“By my orders. An electric thread connects us. I telegraph to it, and
that is enough.”
“Really,” I said, astonished at these marvels, “nothing can be more
simple.”
After having passed by the cage of the staircase that led to the
platform, I saw a cabin six feet long, in which Conseil and Ned Land,
enchanted with their repast, were devouring it with avidity. Then a
door opened into a kitchen nine feet long, situated between the large
storerooms. There electricity, better than gas itself, did all the
cooking. The streams under the furnaces gave out to the sponges of
platina a heat which was regularly kept up and distributed. They also
heated a distilling apparatus, which, by evaporation, furnished
excellent drinkable water. Near this kitchen was a bathroom comfortably
furnished, with hot and cold water taps.
Next to the kitchen was the berthroom of the vessel, sixteen feet long.
But the door was shut, and I could not see the management of it, which
might have given me an idea of the number of men employed on board the
_Nautilus_.
At the bottom was a fourth partition that separated this office from
the engine-room. A door opened, and I found myself in the compartment
where Captain Nemo—certainly an engineer of a very high order—had
arranged his locomotive machinery. This engine-room, clearly lighted,
did not measure less than sixty-five feet in length. It was divided
into two parts; the first contained the materials for producing
electricity, and the second the machinery that connected it with the