Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
emotion. He climbed a rock, sloping to a little promontory, and there,
with his arms crossed, mute and motionless, and with an eager look, he
seemed to take possession of these southern regions. After five minutes
passed in this ecstasy, he turned to us.
“When you like, sir.”
I landed, followed by Conseil, leaving the two men in the boat. For a
long way the soil was composed of a reddish sandy stone, something like
crushed brick, scoriae, streams of lava, and pumice-stones. One could
not mistake its volcanic origin. In some parts, slight curls of smoke
emitted a sulphurous smell, proving that the internal fires had lost
nothing of their expansive powers, though, having climbed a high
acclivity, I could see no volcano for a radius of several miles. We
know that in those Antarctic countries, James Ross found two craters,
the Erebus and Terror, in full activity, on the 167th meridian,
latitude 77° 32′. The vegetation of this desolate continent seemed to
me much restricted. Some lichens lay upon the black rocks; some
microscopic plants, rudimentary diatomas, a kind of cells placed
between two quartz shells; long purple and scarlet weed, supported on
little swimming bladders, which the breaking of the waves brought to
the shore. These constituted the meagre flora of this region. The shore
was strewn with molluscs, little mussels, and limpets. I also saw
myriads of northern clios, one-and-a-quarter inches long, of which a
whale would swallow a whole world at a mouthful; and some perfect
sea-butterflies, animating the waters on the skirts of the shore.
There appeared on the high bottoms some coral shrubs, of the kind
which, according to James Ross, live in the Antarctic seas to the depth
of more than 1,000 yards. Then there were little kingfishers and
starfish studding the soil. But where life abounded most was in the
air. There thousands of birds fluttered and flew of all kinds,
deafening us with their cries; others crowded the rock, looking at us
as we passed by without fear, and pressing familiarly close by our
feet. There were penguins, so agile in the water, heavy and awkward as
they are on the ground; they were uttering harsh cries, a large
assembly, sober in gesture, but extravagant in clamour. Albatrosses
passed in the air, the expanse of their wings being at least four yards
and a half, and justly called the vultures of the ocean; some gigantic
petrels, and some damiers, a kind of small duck, the underpart of whose
body is black and white; then there were a whole series of petrels,
some whitish, with brown-bordered wings, others blue, peculiar to the
Antarctic seas, and so oily, as I told Conseil, that the inhabitants of
the Ferroe Islands had nothing to do before lighting them but to put a
wick in.
“A little more,” said Conseil, “and they would be perfect lamps! After
that, we cannot expect Nature to have previously furnished them with
wicks!”
About half a mile farther on the soil was riddled with ruffs’ nests, a
sort of laying-ground, out of which many birds were issuing. Captain
Nemo had some hundreds hunted. They uttered a cry like the braying of
an ass, were about the size of a goose, slate-colour on the body, white
beneath, with a yellow line round their throats; they allowed
themselves to be killed with a stone, never trying to escape. But the
fog did not lift, and at eleven the sun had not yet shown itself. Its
absence made me uneasy. Without it no observations were possible. How,
then, could we decide whether we had reached the pole? When I rejoined
Captain Nemo, I found him leaning on a piece of rock, silently watching
the sky. He seemed impatient and vexed. But what was to be done? This
rash and powerful man could not command the sun as he did the sea. Noon
arrived without the orb of day showing itself for an instant. We could
not even tell its position behind the curtain of fog; and soon the fog
turned to snow.
“Till to-morrow,” said the Captain, quietly, and we returned to the
_Nautilus_ amid these atmospheric disturbances.
The tempest of snow continued till the next day. It was impossible to
remain on the platform. From the saloon, where I was taking notes of
incidents happening during this excursion to the polar continent, I
could hear the cries of petrels and albatrosses sporting in the midst
of this violent storm. The _Nautilus_ did not remain motionless, but
skirted the coast, advancing ten miles more to the south in the
half-light left by the sun as it skirted the edge of the horizon. The
next day, the 20th of March, the snow had ceased. The cold was a little
greater, the thermometer showing 2° below zero. The fog was rising, and
I hoped that that day our observations might be taken. Captain Nemo not
having yet appeared, the boat took Conseil and myself to land. The soil
was still of the same volcanic nature; everywhere were traces of lava,
scoriae, and basalt; but the crater which had vomited them I could not
see. Here, as lower down, this continent was alive with myriads of
birds. But their rule was now divided with large troops of sea-mammals,
looking at us with their soft eyes. There were several kinds of seals,
some stretched on the earth, some on flakes of ice, many going in and
out of the sea. They did not flee at our approach, never having had
anything to do with man; and I reckoned that there were provisions
there for hundreds of vessels.
“Sir,” said Conseil, “will you tell me the names of these creatures?”
“They are seals and morses.”
It was now eight in the morning. Four hours remained to us before the
sun could be observed with advantage. I directed our steps towards a
vast bay cut in the steep granite shore. There, I can aver that earth
and ice were lost to sight by the numbers of sea-mammals covering them,
and I involuntarily sought for old Proteus, the mythological shepherd
who watched these immense flocks of Neptune. There were more seals than
anything else, forming distinct groups, male and female, the father
watching over his family, the mother suckling her little ones, some
already strong enough to go a few steps. When they wished to change
their place, they took little jumps, made by the contraction of their
bodies, and helped awkwardly enough by their imperfect fin, which, as
with the lamantin, their cousins, forms a perfect forearm. I should say
that, in the water, which is their element—the spine of these creatures
is flexible; with smooth and close skin and webbed feet—they swim
admirably. In resting on the earth they take the most graceful
attitudes. Thus the ancients, observing their soft and expressive
looks, which cannot be surpassed by the most beautiful look a woman can
give, their clear voluptuous eyes, their charming positions, and the
poetry of their manners, metamorphosed them, the male into a triton and
the female into a mermaid. I made Conseil notice the considerable
development of the lobes of the brain in these interesting cetaceans.
No mammal, except man, has such a quantity of brain matter; they are
also capable of receiving a certain amount of education, are easily
domesticated, and I think, with other naturalists, that if properly
taught they would be of great service as fishing-dogs. The greater part
of them slept on the rocks or on the sand. Amongst these seals,
properly so called, which have no external ears (in which they differ
from the otter, whose ears are prominent), I noticed several varieties
of seals about three yards long, with a white coat, bulldog heads,
armed with teeth in both jaws, four incisors at the top and four at the
bottom, and two large canine teeth in the shape of a fleur-de-lis.
Amongst them glided sea-elephants, a kind of seal, with short, flexible
trunks. The giants of this species measured twenty feet round and ten
yards and a half in length; but they did not move as we approached.
“These creatures are not dangerous?” asked Conseil.
“No; not unless you attack them. When they have to defend their young
their rage is terrible, and it is not uncommon for them to break the
fishing-boats to pieces.”
“They are quite right,” said Conseil.
“I do not say they are not.”
Two miles farther on we were stopped by the promontory which shelters
the bay from the southerly winds. Beyond it we heard loud bellowings
such as a troop of ruminants would produce.
“Good!” said Conseil; “a concert of bulls!”
“No; a concert of morses.”
“They are fighting!”
“They are either fighting or playing.”
We now began to climb the blackish rocks, amid unforeseen stumbles, and
over stones which the ice made slippery. More than once I rolled over
at the expense of my loins. Conseil, more prudent or more steady, did
not stumble, and helped me up, saying:
“If, sir, you would have the kindness to take wider steps, you would
preserve your equilibrium better.”
Arrived at the upper ridge of the promontory, I saw a vast white plain
covered with morses. They were playing amongst themselves, and what we
heard were bellowings of pleasure, not of anger.
As I passed these curious animals I could examine them leisurely, for
they did not move. Their skins were thick and rugged, of a yellowish
tint, approaching to red; their hair was short and scant. Some of them
were four yards and a quarter long. Quieter and less timid than their
cousins of the north, they did not, like them, place sentinels round
the outskirts of their encampment. After examining this city of morses,
I began to think of returning. It was eleven o’clock, and, if Captain
Nemo found the conditions favourable for observations, I wished to be
present at the operation. We followed a narrow pathway running along
the summit of the steep shore. At half-past eleven we had reached the
place where we landed. The boat had run aground, bringing the Captain.
I saw him standing on a block of basalt, his instruments near him, his
eyes fixed on the northern horizon, near which the sun was then
describing a lengthened curve. I took my place beside him, and waited
without speaking. Noon arrived, and, as before, the sun did not appear.
It was a fatality. Observations were still wanting. If not accomplished
to-morrow, we must give up all idea of taking any. We were indeed
exactly at the 20th of March. To-morrow, the 21st, would be the
equinox; the sun would disappear behind the horizon for six months, and
with its disappearance the long polar night would begin. Since the
September equinox it had emerged from the northern horizon, rising by
lengthened spirals up to the 21st of December. At this period, the
summer solstice of the northern regions, it had begun to descend; and
to-morrow was to shed its last rays upon them. I communicated my fears
and observations to Captain Nemo.
“You are right, M. Aronnax,” said he; “if to-morrow I cannot take the
altitude of the sun, I shall not be able to do it for six months. But
precisely because chance has led me into these seas on the 21st of
March, my bearings will be easy to take, if at twelve we can see the
sun.”
“Why, Captain?”
“Because then the orb of day described such lengthened curves that it
is difficult to measure exactly its height above the horizon, and grave
errors may be made with instruments.”
“What will you do then?”
“I shall only use my chronometer,” replied Captain Nemo. “If to-morrow,
the 21st of March, the disc of the sun, allowing for refraction, is
exactly cut by the northern horizon, it will show that I am at the
South Pole.”
“Just so,” said I. “But this statement is not mathematically correct,
because the equinox does not necessarily begin at noon.”
“Very likely, sir; but the error will not be a hundred yards and we do
not want more. Till to-morrow, then!”
Captain Nemo returned on board. Conseil and I remained to survey the