第 二十八 章 · THE ARABIAN TUNNEL

kes 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!”

CHAPTER 28. THE ARABIAN TUNNEL

That 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 counting-house 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 lbs.

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; half way 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.

CHAPT