Chương Chương 34 · THE SARGASSO SEA

ARGASSO SEA

That day the _Nautilus_ crossed a singular part of the Atlantic Ocean.

No one can be ignorant of the existence of a current of warm water

known by the name of the Gulf Stream. After leaving the Gulf of

Florida, we went in the direction of Spitzbergen. But before entering

the Gulf of Mexico, about 45° of N. lat., this current divides into two

arms, the principal one going towards the coast of Ireland and Norway,

whilst the second bends to the south about the height of the Azores;

then, touching the African shore, and describing a lengthened oval,

returns to the Antilles. This second arm—it is rather a collar than an

arm—surrounds with its circles of warm water that portion of the cold,

quiet, immovable ocean called the Sargasso Sea, a perfect lake in the

open Atlantic: it takes no less than three years for the great current

to pass round it. Such was the region the _Nautilus_ was now visiting,

a perfect meadow, a close carpet of seaweed, fucus, and tropical

berries, so thick and so compact that the stem of a vessel could hardly

tear its way through it. And Captain Nemo, not wishing to entangle his

screw in this herbaceous mass, kept some yards beneath the surface of

the waves. The name Sargasso comes from the Spanish word “sargazzo”

which signifies kelp. This kelp, or berry-plant, is the principal

formation of this immense bank. And this is the reason why these plants

unite in the peaceful basin of the Atlantic. The only explanation which

can be given, he says, seems to me to result from the experience known

to all the world. Place in a vase some fragments of cork or other

floating body, and give to the water in the vase a circular movement,

the scattered fragments will unite in a group in the centre of the

liquid surface, that is to say, in the part least agitated. In the

phenomenon we are considering, the Atlantic is the vase, the Gulf

Stream the circular current, and the Sargasso Sea the central point at

which the floating bodies unite.

I share Maury’s opinion, and I was able to study the phenomenon in the

very midst, where vessels rarely penetrate. Above us floated products

of all kinds, heaped up among these brownish plants; trunks of trees

torn from the Andes or the Rocky Mountains, and floated by the Amazon

or the Mississippi; numerous wrecks, remains of keels, or ships’

bottoms, side-planks stove in, and so weighted with shells and

barnacles that they could not again rise to the surface. And time will

one day justify Maury’s other opinion, that these substances thus

accumulated for ages will become petrified by the action of the water

and will then form inexhaustible coal-mines—a precious reserve prepared

by far-seeing Nature for the moment when men shall have exhausted the

mines of continents.

In the midst of this inextricable mass of plants and sea weed, I

noticed some charming pink halcyons and actiniae, with their long

tentacles trailing after them, and medusæ, green, red, and blue.

All the day of the 22nd of February we passed in the Sargasso Sea,

where such fish as are partial to marine plants find abundant

nourishment. The next, the ocean had returned to its accustomed aspect.

From this time for nineteen days, from the 23rd of February to the 12th

of March, the _Nautilus_ kept in the middle of the Atlantic, carrying

us at a constant speed of a hundred leagues in twenty-four hours.

Captain Nemo evidently intended accomplishing his submarine programme,

and I imagined that he intended, after doubling Cape Horn, to return to

the Australian seas of the Pacific. Ned Land had cause for fear. In

these large seas, void of islands, we could not attempt to leave the

boat. Nor had we any means of opposing Captain Nemo’s will. Our only

course was to submit; but what we could neither gain by force nor

cunning, I liked to think might be obtained by persuasion. This voyage

ended, would he not consent to restore our liberty, under an oath never

to reveal his existence?—an oath of honour which we should have

religiously kept. But we must consider that delicate question with the

Captain. But was I free to claim this liberty? Had he not himself said

from the beginning, in the firmest manner, that the secret of his life

exacted from him our lasting imprisonment on board the _Nautilus?_ And

would not my four months’ silence appear to him a tacit acceptance of

our situation? And would not a return to the subject result in raising

suspicions which might be hurtful to our projects, if at some future

time a favourable opportunity offered to return to them?

During the nineteen days mentioned above, no incident of any kind

happened to signalise our voyage. I saw little of the Captain; he was

at work. In the library I often found his books left open, especially

those on natural history. My work on submarine depths, conned over by

him, was covered with marginal notes, often contradicting my theories

and systems; but the Captain contented himself with thus purging my

work; it was very rare for him to discuss it with me. Sometimes I heard

the melancholy tones of his organ; but only at night, in the midst of

the deepest obscurity, when the _Nautilus_ slept upon the deserted

ocean. During this part of our voyage we sailed whole days on the

surface of the waves. The sea seemed abandoned. A few sailing-vessels,

on the road to India, were making for the Cape of Good Hope. One day we

were followed by the boats of a whaler, who, no doubt, took us for some

enormous whale of great price; but Captain Nemo did not wish the worthy

fellows to lose their time and trouble, so ended the chase by plunging

under the water. Our navigation continued until the 13th of March; that

day the _Nautilus_ was employed in taking soundings, which greatly

interested me. We had then made about 13,000 leagues since our

departure from the high seas of the Pacific. The bearings gave us 45°

37′ S. lat., and 37° 53′ W. long. It was the same water in which

Captain Denham of the Herald sounded 7,000 fathoms without finding the

bottom. There, too, Lieutenant Parker, of the American frigate

Congress, could not touch the bottom with 15,140 fathoms. Captain Nemo

intended seeking the bottom of the ocean by a diagonal sufficiently

lengthened by means of lateral planes placed at an angle of 45° with

the water-line of the _Nautilus_. Then the screw set to work at its

maximum speed, its four blades beating the waves with in describable

force. Under this powerful pressure, the hull of the _Nautilus_

quivered like a sonorous chord and sank regularly under the water.

At 7,000 fathoms I saw some blackish tops rising from the midst of the

waters; but these summits might belong to high mountains like the

Himalayas or Mont Blanc, even higher; and the depth of the abyss

remained incalculable. The _Nautilus_ descended still lower, in spite

of the great pressure. I felt the steel plates tremble at the

fastenings of the bolts; its bars bent, its partitions groaned; the

windows of the saloon seemed to curve under the pressure of the waters.

And this firm structure would doubtless have yielded, if, as its

Captain had said, it had not been capable of resistance like a solid

block. We had attained a depth of 16,000 yards (four leagues), and the

sides of the _Nautilus_ then bore a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres, that

is to say, 3,200 lbs. to each square two-fifths of an inch of its

surface.

“What a situation to be in!” I exclaimed. “To overrun these deep

regions where man has never trod! Look, Captain, look at these

magnificent rocks, these uninhabited grottoes, these lowest receptacles

of the globe, where life is no longer possible! What unknown sights are

here! Why should we be unable to preserve a remembrance of them?”

“Would you like to carry away more than the remembrance?” said Captain

Nemo.

“What do you mean by those words?”

“I mean to say that nothing is easier than to make a photographic view

of this submarine region.”

I had not time to express my surprise at this new proposition, when, at

Captain Nemo’s call, an objective was brought into the saloon. Through

the widely-opened panel, the liquid mass was bright with electricity,

which was distributed with such uniformity that not a shadow, not a

gradation, was to be seen in our manufactured light. The _Nautilus_

remained motionless, the force of its screw subdued by the inclination

of its planes: the instrument was propped on the bottom of the oceanic

site, and in a few seconds we had obtained a perfect negative.

But, the operation being over, Captain Nemo said, “Let us go up; we

must not abuse our position, nor expose the _Nautilus_ too long to such

great pressure.”

“Go up again!” I exclaimed.

“Hold well on.”

I had not time to understand why the Captain cautioned me thus, when I

was thrown forward on to the carpet. At a signal from the Captain, its

screw was shipped, and its blades raised vertically; the _Nautilus_

shot into the air like a balloon, rising with stunning rapidity, and

cutting the mass of waters with a sonorous agitation. Nothing was

visible; and in four minutes it had shot through the four leagues which

separated it from the ocean, and, after emerging like a flying-fish,

fell, making the waves rebound to an enormous height.

CHAPT