“Well, Captain, what the ancients dared not undertake, this junction between the two seas, which will shorten the road from Cadiz to India, M. Lesseps has succeeded in doing; and before long he will have changed Africa into an immense island.”
“Yes, M. Aronnax; you have the right to be proud of your countryman. Such a man brings more honour to a nation than great captains. He began, like so many others, with disgust and rebuffs; but he has triumphed, for he has the genius of will. And it is sad to think that a work like that, which ought to have been an international work and which would have sufficed to make a reign illustrious, should have succeeded by the energy of one man. All honour to M. Lesseps!”
“Yes! honour to the great citizen,” I replied, surprised by the manner in which Captain Nemo had just spoken.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I cannot take you through the Suez Canal; but you will be able to see the long jetty of Port Said after to-morrow, when we shall be in the Mediterranean.”
“The Mediterranean!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, sir; does that astonish you?”
“What astonishes me is to think that we shall be there the day after to-morrow.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, Captain, although by this time I ought to have accustomed myself to be surprised at nothing since I have been on board your boat.”
“But the cause of this surprise?”
“Well! it is the fearful speed you will have to put on the
Nautilus
, if the day after to-morrow she is to be in the Mediterranean, having made the round of Africa, and doubled the Cape of Good Hope!”
“Who told you that she would make the round of Africa and double the Cape of Good Hope, sir?”
“Well, unless the
Nautilus
sails on dry land, and passes above the isthmus—”
“Or beneath it, M. Aronnax.”
“Beneath it?”
“Certainly,” replied Captain Nemo quietly. “A long time ago Nature made under this tongue of land what man has this day made on its surface.”
“What! such a passage exists?”
“Yes; a subterranean passage, which I have named the Arabian Tunnel. It takes us beneath Suez and opens into the Gulf of Pelusium.”
“But this isthmus is composed of nothing but quicksands?”
“To a certain depth. But at fifty-five yards only there is a solid layer of rock.”
“Did you discover this passage by chance?” I asked more and more surprised.
“Chance and reasoning, sir; and by reasoning even more than by chance. Not only does this passage exist, but I have profited by it several times. Without that I should not have ventured this day into the impassable Red Sea. I noticed that in the Red Sea and in the Mediterranean there existed a certain number of fishes of a kind perfectly identical. Certain of the fact, I asked myself was it possible
that there was no communication between the two seas? If there was, the subterranean current must necessarily run from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean, from the sole cause of difference of level. I caught a large number of fishes in the neighbourhood of Suez. I passed a copper ring through their tails, and threw them back into the sea. Some months later, on the coast of Syria, I caught some of my fish ornamented with the ring. Thus the communication between the two was proved. I then sought for it with my
Nautilus
; I discovered it, ventured into it, and before long, sir, you too will have passed through my Arabian tunnel!”
T
HAT SAME EVENING, in 21° 30’ N. lat., the
Nautilus
floated on the surface of the sea, approaching the Arabian coast. I saw Djeddah, the most important countinghouse of Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and India. I distinguished clearly enough its buildings, the vessels anchored at the quays, and those whose draught of water obliged them to anchor in the roads. The sun, rather low on the horizon, struck full on the houses of the town, bringing out their whiteness. Outside, some wooden cabins, and some made of reeds, showed the quarter inhabited by the Bedouins. Soon Djeddah was shut out from view by the shadows of night, and the
Nautilus
found herself under water slightly phosphorescent.
The next day, the 10th of February, we sighted several ships running to windward. The
Nautilus
returned to its submarine navigation; but at noon, when her bearings were taken, the sea being deserted, she rose again to her waterline.
Accompanied by Ned and Conseil, I seated myself on
the platform. The coast on the eastern side looked like a mass faintly printed upon a damp fog.
We were leaning on the sides of the pinnace, talking of one thing and another, when Ned Land, stretching out his hand towards a spot on the sea, said:
“Do you see anything there, sir?”
“No, Ned,” I replied; “but I have not your eyes, you know.”
“Look well,” said Ned, “there, on the starboard beam, about the height of the lantern! Do you not see a mass which seems to move?”
“Certainly,” said I, after close attention; “I see something like a long black body on the top of the water.”
And certainly before long the black object was not more than a mile from us. It looked like a great sandbank deposited in the open sea. It was a gigantic dugong!
Ned Land looked eagerly. His eyes shone with covetousness at the sight of the animal. His hand seemed ready to harpoon it. One would have thought he was awaiting the moment to throw himself into the sea and attack it in its element.
At this instant Captain Nemo appeared on the platform. He saw the dugong, understood the Canadian’s attitude, and, addressing him, said:
“If you held a harpoon just now, Master Land, would it not burn your hand?”
“Just so, sir.”
“And you would not be sorry to go back, for one day, to your trade of a fisherman and to add this cetacean to the list of those you have already killed?”
“I should not, sir.”
“Well, you can try.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Ned Land, his eyes flaming.
“Only,” continued the Captain, “I advise you for your own sake not to miss the creature.”
“Is the dugong dangerous to attack?” I asked, in spite of the Canadian’s shrug of the shoulders.
“Yes,” replied the Captain; “sometimes the animal turns
upon its assailants and overturns their boat. But for Master Land this danger is not to be feared. His eye is prompt, his arm sure.”
At this moment seven men of the crew, mute and immovable as ever, mounted the platform. One carried a harpoon and a line similar to those employed in catching whales. The pinnace was lifted from the bridge, pulled from its socket, and let down into the sea. Six oarsmen took their seats, and the coxswain went to the tiller. Ned, Conseil, and I went to the back of the boat.
“You are not coming, Captain?” I asked.
“No, sir; but I wish you good sport.”
The boat put off, and, lifted by the six rowers, drew rapidly towards the dugong, which floated about two miles from the
Nautilus
.
Arrived some cables-length from the cetacean, the speed slackened, and the oars dipped noiselessly into the quiet waters. Ned Land, harpoon in hand, stood in the fore part of the boat. The harpoon used for striking the whale is generally attached to a very long cord which runs out rapidly as the wounded creature draws it after him. But here the cord was not more than ten fathoms long, and the extremity was attached to a small barrel which, by floating, was to show the course the dugong took under the water.
I stood and carefully watched the Canadian’s adversary. This dugong, which also bears the name of the halicore, closely resembles the manatee; its oblong body terminated in a lengthened tail, and its lateral fins in perfect fingers. Its difference from the manatee consisted in its upper jaw, which was armed with two long and pointed teeth which formed on each side diverging tusks.
This dugong which Ned Land was preparing to attack was of colossal dimensions; it was more than seven yards long. It did not move, and seemed to be sleeping on the waves, which circumstance made it easier to capture.
The boat approached within six yards of the animal. The oars rested on the rowlocks. I half rose. Ned Land, his
body thrown a little back, brandished the harpoon in his experienced hand.
Suddenly a hissing noise was heard, and the dugong disappeared. The harpoon, although thrown with great force; had apparently only struck the water.
“Curse it!” exclaimed the Canadian furiously; “I have missed it!”
“No,” said I; “the creature is wounded—look at the blood; but your weapon has not stuck in his body.”
“My harpoon! my harpoon!” cried Ned Land.
The sailors rowed on, and the coxswain made for the floating barrel. The harpoon regained, we followed in pursuit of the animal.
The latter came now and then to the surface to breathe. Its wound had not weakened it, for it shot onwards with great rapidity.
The boat, rowed by strong arms, flew on its track. Several times it approached within some few yards, and the Canadian was ready to strike, but the dugong made off with a sudden plunge, and it was impossible to reach it.
Imagine the passion which excited impatient Ned Land! He hurled at the unfortunate creature the most energetic expletives in the English tongue. For my part, I was only vexed to see the dugong escape all our attacks.
We pursued it without relaxation for an hour, and I began to think it would prove difficult to capture, when the animal, possessed with the perverse idea of vengeance of which he had cause to repent, turned upon the pinnace and assailed us in its turn.
This manœuvre did not escape the Canadian.
“Look out!” he cried.
The coxswain said some words in his outlandish tongue, doubtless warning the men to keep on their guard.
The dugong came within twenty feet of the boat, stopped, sniffed the air briskly with its large nostrils (not pierced at the extremity, but in the upper part of its muzzle). Then, taking a spring, he threw himself upon us.
The pinnace could not avoid the shock, and half upset,
shipped at least two tons of water, which had to be emptied; but, thanks to the coxswain, we caught it sideways, not full front, so we were not quite overturned. While Ned Land, clinging to the bows, belaboured the gigantic animal with blows from his harpoon, the creature’s teeth were buried in the gunwale, and it lifted the whole thing out of the water, as a lion does a roebuck. We were upset over one another, and I know not how the adventure would have ended, if the Canadian, still enraged with the beast, had not struck it to the heart.
I heard its teeth grind on the iron plate, and the dugong disappeared, carrying the harpoon with him. But the barrel soon returned to the surface, and shortly after the body of the animal, turned on its back. The boat came up with it, took it in tow, and made straight for the
Nautilus
.
It required tackle of enormous strength to hoist the dugong on to the platform. It weighed 10,000 lb.
The next day, 11th February, the larder of the
Nautilus
was enriched by some more delicate game. A flight of sea-swallows rested on the
Nautilus
. It was a species of the
Sterna nilotica
, peculiar to Egypt; its beak is black, head grey and pointed, the eye surrounded by white spots, the back, wings, and tail of a greyish colour, the belly and throat white, and claws red. They also took some dozen of Nile ducks, a wild bird of high flavour, its throat and upper part of the head white with black spots.
About five o’clock in the evening we sighted to the north the Cape of Ras-Mohammed. This cape forms the extremity of Arabia Petraea, comprised between the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Acabah.
The
Nautilus
penetrated into the Straits of Jubal, which leads to the Gulf of Suez. I distinctly saw a high mountain, towering between the two gulfs of Ras-Mohammed. It was Mount Horeb, that Sinai at the top of which Moses saw God face to face.
At six o’clock the
Nautilus
, sometimes floating, sometimes immersed, passed some distance from Tor, situated at the end of the bay, the waters of which seemed tinted
with red, an observation already made by Captain Nemo. Then night fell in the midst of a heavy silence, sometimes broken by the cries of the pelican and other night-birds, and the noise of the waves breaking upon the shore, chafing against the rocks, or the panting of some far-off steamer beating the waters of the Gulf with its noisy paddles.
From eight to nine o’clock the
Nautilus
remained some fathoms under the water. According to my calculation we must have been very near Suez. Through the panel of the saloon I saw the bottom of the rocks brilliantly lit up by our electric lamp. We seemed to be leaving the Straits behind us more and more.
At a quarter-past nine, the vessel having returned to the surface, I mounted the platform. Most impatient to pass through Captain Nemo’s tunnel, I could not stay in one place, so came to breathe the fresh night air.
Soon in the shadow I saw a pale light, half discoloured by the fog, shining about a mile from us.
“A floating lighthouse!” said someone near me.
I turned, and saw the Captain.
“It is the floating light of Suez,” he continued. “It will not be long before we gain the entrance of the tunnel.”
“The entrance cannot be easy?”
“No, sir; for that reason I am accustomed to go into the steersman’s cage and myself direct our course. And now, if you will go down, M. Aronnax, the
Nautilus
is going under the waves, and will not return to the surface until we have passed through the Arabian Tunnel.”
Captain Nemo led me towards the central staircase; halfway down he opened a door, traversed the upper deck, and landed in the pilot’s cage, which it may be remembered rose at the extremity of the platform. It was a cabin measuring six feet square, very much like that occupied by the pilot on the steamboats of the Mississippi or Hudson. In the midst worked a wheel, placed vertically, and caught to the tiller-rope, which ran to the back of the
Nautilus
. Four light-ports with lenticular glasses, let in a groove in
the partition of the cabin, allowed the man at the wheel to see in all directions.
This cabin was dark; but soon my eyes accustomed themselves to the obscurity, and I perceived the pilot, a strong man, with his hands resting on the spokes of the wheel. Outside, the sea appeared vividly lit up by the lantern, which shed its rays from the back of the cabin to the other extremity of the platform.
“Now,” said Captain Nemo, “let us try to make our passage.”
Electric wires connected the pilot’s cage with the machinery room, and from there the Captain could communicate simultaneously to his
Nautilus
the direction and the speed. He pressed a metal knob, and at once the speed of the screw diminished.
I looked in silence at the high straight wall we were running by at this moment, the immovable base of a massive sandy coast. We followed it thus for an hour only some few yards off.
Captain Nemo did not take his eye from the knob, suspended by its two concentric circles in the cabin. At a simple gesture, the pilot modified the course of the
Nautilus
every instant.
I had placed myself at the port-scuttle, and saw some magnificent substructures of coral, zoophytes, seaweed, and fucus, agitating their enormous claws, which stretched out from the fissures of the rock.
At a quarter-past ten, the Captain himself took the helm. A large gallery, black and deep, opened before us. The
Nautilus
went boldly into it. A strange roaring was heard round its sides. It was the waters of the Red Sea, which the incline of the tunnel precipitated violently towards the Mediterranean. The
Nautilus
went with the torrent, rapid as an arrow, in spite of the efforts of the machinery, which, in order to offer more effective resistance, beat the waves with reversed screw.
On the walls of the narrow passage I could see nothing but brilliant rays, straight lines, furrows of fire, traced by
the great speed, under the brilliant electric light. My heart beat fast.
At thirty-five minutes past ten, Captain Nemo quitted the helm, and, turning to me, said:
“The Mediterranean!”
In less than twenty minutes, the
Nautilus
, carried along by the torrent, had passed through the Isthmus of Suez.