Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
eight tentacles, six were elongated, and stretched out floating on the
water, whilst the other two, rolled up flat, were spread to the wing
like a light sail. I saw their spiral-shaped and fluted shells, which
Cuvier justly compares to an elegant skiff. A boat indeed! It bears the
creature which secretes it without its adhering to it.
For nearly an hour the _Nautilus_ floated in the midst of this shoal of
molluscs. Then I know not what sudden fright they took. But as if at a
signal every sail was furled, the arms folded, the body drawn in, the
shells turned over, changing their centre of gravity, and the whole
fleet disappeared under the waves. Never did the ships of a squadron
manœuvre with more unity.
At that moment night fell suddenly, and the reeds, scarcely raised by
the breeze, lay peaceably under the sides of the _Nautilus_.
The next day, 26th of January, we cut the equator at the eighty-second
meridian and entered the northern hemisphere. During the day a
formidable troop of sharks accompanied us, terrible creatures, which
multiply in these seas and make them very dangerous. They were
“cestracio philippi” sharks, with brown backs and whitish bellies,
armed with eleven rows of teeth—eyed sharks—their throat being marked
with a large black spot surrounded with white like an eye. There were
also some Isabella sharks, with rounded snouts marked with dark spots.
These powerful creatures often hurled themselves at the windows of the
saloon with such violence as to make us feel very insecure. At such
times Ned Land was no longer master of himself. He wanted to go to the
surface and harpoon the monsters, particularly certain smooth-hound
sharks, whose mouth is studded with teeth like a mosaic; and large
tiger-sharks nearly six yards long, the last named of which seemed to
excite him more particularly. But the _Nautilus_, accelerating her
speed, easily left the most rapid of them behind.
The 27th of January, at the entrance of the vast Bay of Bengal, we met
repeatedly a forbidding spectacle, dead bodies floating on the surface
of the water. They were the dead of the Indian villages, carried by the
Ganges to the level of the sea, and which the vultures, the only
undertakers of the country, had not been able to devour. But the sharks
did not fail to help them at their funeral work.
About seven o’clock in the evening, the _Nautilus_, half-immersed, was
sailing in a sea of milk. At first sight the ocean seemed lactified.
Was it the effect of the lunar rays? No; for the moon, scarcely two
days old, was still lying hidden under the horizon in the rays of the
sun. The whole sky, though lit by the sidereal rays, seemed black by
contrast with the whiteness of the waters.
Conseil could not believe his eyes, and questioned me as to the cause
of this strange phenomenon. Happily I was able to answer him.
“It is called a milk sea,” I explained. “A large extent of white
wavelets often to be seen on the coasts of Amboyna, and in these parts
of the sea.”
“But, sir,” said Conseil, “can you tell me what causes such an effect?
for I suppose the water is not really turned into milk.”
“No, my boy; and the whiteness which surprises you is caused only by
the presence of myriads of infusoria, a sort of luminous little worm,
gelatinous and without colour, of the thickness of a hair, and whose
length is not more than seven-thousandths of an inch. These insects
adhere to one another sometimes for several leagues.”
“Several leagues!” exclaimed Conseil.
“Yes, my boy; and you need not try to compute the number of these
infusoria. You will not be able, for, if I am not mistaken, ships have
floated on these milk seas for more than forty miles.”
Towards midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual colour; but behind
us, even to the limits of the horizon, the sky reflected the whitened
waves, and for a long time seemed impregnated with the vague
glimmerings of an aurora borealis.
CHAPTER II
A NOVEL PROPOSAL OF CAPTAIN NEMO’S
On the 28th of February, when at noon the _Nautilus_ came to the
surface of the sea, in 9° 4′ N. lat., there was land in sight about
eight miles to westward. The first thing I noticed was a range of
mountains about two thousand feet high, the shapes of which were most
capricious. On taking the bearings, I knew that we were nearing the
island of Ceylon, the pearl which hangs from the lobe of the Indian
Peninsula.
Captain Nemo and his second appeared at this moment. The Captain
glanced at the map. Then turning to me, said:
“The Island of Ceylon, noted for its pearl-fisheries. Would you like to
visit one of them, M. Aronnax?”
“Certainly, Captain.”
“Well, the thing is easy. Though, if we see the fisheries, we shall not
see the fishermen. The annual exportation has not yet begun. Never
mind, I will give orders to make for the Gulf of Manaar, where we shall
arrive in the night.”
The Captain said something to his second, who immediately went out.
Soon the _Nautilus_ returned to her native element, and the manometer
showed that she was about thirty feet deep.
“Well, sir,” said Captain Nemo, “you and your companions shall visit
the Bank of Manaar, and if by chance some fisherman should be there, we
shall see him at work.”
“Agreed, Captain!”
“By the bye, M. Aronnax you are not afraid of sharks?”
“Sharks!” exclaimed I.
This question seemed a very hard one.
“Well?” continued Captain Nemo.
“I admit, Captain, that I am not yet very familiar with that kind of
fish.”
“We are accustomed to them,” replied Captain Nemo, “and in time you
will be too. However, we shall be armed, and on the road we may be able
to hunt some of the tribe. It is interesting. So, till to-morrow, sir,
and early.”
This said in a careless tone, Captain Nemo left the saloon. Now, if you
were invited to hunt the bear in the mountains of Switzerland, what
would you say?
“Very well! to-morrow we will go and hunt the bear.” If you were asked
to hunt the lion in the plains of Atlas, or the tiger in the Indian
jungles, what would you say?
“Ha! ha! it seems we are going to hunt the tiger or the lion!” But when
you are invited to hunt the shark in its natural element, you would
perhaps reflect before accepting the invitation. As for myself, I
passed my hand over my forehead, on which stood large drops of cold
perspiration. “Let us reflect,” said I, “and take our time. Hunting
otters in submarine forests, as we did in the Island of Crespo, will
pass; but going up and down at the bottom of the sea, where one is
almost certain to meet sharks, is quite another thing! I know well that
in certain countries, particularly in the Andaman Islands, the negroes
never hesitate to attack them with a dagger in one hand and a running
noose in the other; but I also know that few who affront those
creatures ever return alive. However, I am not a negro, and if I were I
think a little hesitation in this case would not be ill-timed.”
At this moment Conseil and the Canadian entered, quite composed, and
even joyous. They knew not what awaited them.
“Faith, sir,” said Ned Land, “your Captain Nemo—the devil take him!—has
just made us a very pleasant offer.”
“Ah!” said I, “you know?”
“If agreeable to you, sir,” interrupted Conseil, “the commander of the
_Nautilus_ has invited us to visit the magnificent Ceylon fisheries
to-morrow, in your company; he did it kindly, and behaved like a real
gentleman.”
“He said nothing more?”
“Nothing more, sir, except that he had already spoken to you of this
little walk.”
“Sir,” said Conseil, “would you give us some details of the pearl
fishery?”
“As to the fishing itself,” I asked, “or the incidents, which?”
“On the fishing,” replied the Canadian; “before entering upon the
ground, it is as well to know something about it.”
“Very well; sit down, my friends, and I will teach you.”
Ned and Conseil seated themselves on an ottoman, and the first thing
the Canadian asked was:
“Sir, what is a pearl?”
“My worthy Ned,” I answered, “to the poet, a pearl is a tear of the
sea; to the Orientals, it is a drop of dew solidified; to the ladies,
it is a jewel of an oblong shape, of a brilliancy of mother-of-pearl
substance, which they wear on their fingers, their necks, or their
ears; for the chemist it is a mixture of phosphate and carbonate of
lime, with a little gelatine; and lastly, for naturalists, it is simply
a morbid secretion of the organ that produces the mother-of-pearl
amongst certain bivalves.”
“Branch of molluscs,” said Conseil.
“Precisely so, my learned Conseil; and, amongst these testacea the
earshell, the tridacnae, the turbots, in a word, all those which
secrete mother-of-pearl, that is, the blue, bluish, violet, or white
substance which lines the interior of their shells, are capable of
producing pearls.”
“Mussels too?” asked the Canadian.
“Yes, mussels of certain waters in Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Saxony,
Bohemia, and France.”
“Good! For the future I shall pay attention,” replied the Canadian.
“But,” I continued, “the particular mollusc which secretes the pearl is
the pearl-oyster, the meleagrina margaritifera, that precious
pintadine. The pearl is nothing but a nacreous formation, deposited in
a globular form, either adhering to the oyster shell, or buried in the
folds of the creature. On the shell it is fast; in the flesh it is
loose; but always has for a kernel a small hard substance, may be a
barren egg, may be a grain of sand, around which the pearly matter
deposits itself year after year successively, and by thin concentric
layers.”
“Are many pearls found in the same oyster?” asked Conseil.
“Yes, my boy. Some are a perfect casket. One oyster has been mentioned,
though I allow myself to doubt it, as having contained no less than a
hundred and fifty sharks.”
“A hundred and fifty sharks!” exclaimed Ned Land.
“Did I say sharks?” said I hurriedly. “I meant to say a hundred and
fifty pearls. Sharks would not be sense.”
“Certainly not,” said Conseil; “but will you tell us now by what means
they extract these pearls?”
“They proceed in various ways. When they adhere to the shell, the
fishermen often pull them off with pincers; but the most common way is
to lay the oysters on mats of the seaweed which covers the banks. Thus
they die in the open air; and at the end of ten days they are in a
forward state of decomposition. They are then plunged into large
reservoirs of sea-water; then they are opened and washed.”
“The price of these pearls varies according to their size?” asked
Conseil.
“Not only according to their size,” I answered, “but also according to
their shape, their water (that is, their colour), and their lustre:
that is, that bright and diapered sparkle which makes them so charming
to the eye. The most beautiful are called virgin pearls, or paragons.
They are formed alone in the tissue of the mollusc, are white, often
opaque, and sometimes have the transparency of an opal; they are
generally round or oval. The round are made into bracelets, the oval
into pendants, and, being more precious, are sold singly. Those
adhering to the shell of the oyster are more irregular in shape, and
are sold by weight. Lastly, in a lower order are classed those small
pearls known under the name of seed-pearls; they are sold by measure,
and are especially used in embroidery for church ornaments.”
“But,” said Conseil, “is this pearl-fishery dangerous?”
“No,” I answered, quickly; “particularly if certain precautions are
taken.”
“What does one risk in such a calling?” said Ned Land, “the swallowing
of some mouthfuls of sea-water?”
“As you say, Ned. By the bye,” said I, trying to take Captain Nemo’s
careless tone, “are you afraid of sharks, brave Ned?”
“I!” replied the Canadian; “a harpooner by profession? It is my trade