Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas by Jules Vern - Part 2 - Chapter 20

"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" is a classic science fiction adventure novel written by the French author Jules Verne. First published in 1870, the novel is set in the 19th century and follows the thrilling journey of Captain Nemo and his remarkable submarine, the Nautilus.The story is narrated by Professor Pierre Aronnax, a renowned marine biologist who, along with his loyal servant Conseil and harpoonist Ned Land, is taken aboard the Nautilus after their ship is attacked and sunk by an enigmatic and reclusive captain known as Captain Nemo. Nemo is a mysterious and enigmatic character who shuns contact with the outside world and chooses to live beneath the sea, exploring its depths in his advanced and technologically advanced submarine.As the protagonists join Nemo on his undersea adventures, they discover a breathtaking and fantastical world beneath the waves. They encounter a wide variety of marine life, explore hidden underwater landscapes, and even witness the lost city of Atlantis. The novel explores themes of exploration, the wonders of the natural world, and the consequences of unchecked technology."20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" is not only an exciting adventure story but also a reflection on the relationship between humanity and nature, as well as the ethical dilemmas posed by scientific and technological progress. Jules Verne's vivid descriptions of the undersea world and the captivating character of Captain Nemo have made this novel a timeless classic in the genre of science fiction and adventure literature. It continues to captivate readers with its sense of wonder and imagination, as well as its exploration of the mysteries of the deep sea.

Episode Transcript

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This is a LibriVox recording. AllLibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer,please visit LibriVox dot org. Twenty thousand
Leagues under the Seas by Jules Verne, second part, Chapter twenty, in

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latitude forty seven degrees twenty four minutesand longitude seventeen degrees twenty eight minutes.
In the aftermath of this storm,we were thrown back to the east.
Away went any hope of escaping tothe landing places of New York or the
Saint Lawrence. In despair, poorned went into seclusion. Like Captain Nemo,

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Conseil and I no longer left eachother. As I said, the
Nautilus veered to the east. Tobe more accurate, I should have said
to the northeast. Sometimes on thesurface of the waves, sometimes beneath them.
The ship wandered for days amid thesemists so feared by navigators. These

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are caused chiefly by melting ice,which keeps the air extremely damp. How
many ships have perished in these waterwaysas they tried to get directions from the
hazy lights on the coast. Howmany casualties have been caused by these opaque
mists. How many collisions have occurredwith these reefs, where the breaking surf

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is covered by the noise of thewind. How many vessels have rammed each
other, despite their running lights,despite the warnings given by their bosun's pipes
and the alarm bells. So thefloor of this sea had the appearance of
a battlefield, where every ship,defeated by the ocean lay still, some

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already old and encrusted, others newerand reflecting our beacon light on their ironwork
and copper undersides. Among these vessels, how many went down with all hands,
with their crews and hosts of immigrantsat these trouble spots so prominent in
the statistics cape Race Saint Paul Island, the Strait of Belle Isle, the

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Saint Lawrence Estuary. And in onlya few years, how many victims have
been furnished to the obituary notices bythe Royal Mail Inman and Montreal lines by
vessels named the Solway, the Isis, the Paramatta, the Hungarian, the
Canadian, the Anglo Saxon, theHumboldt, and the United States all run

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aground by the Arctic and the Lionessussunken collisions by the President the Pacific and
the city of Glasgow lost for unknownreasons. In the midst of their gloomy
rubble, the nautilus navigated as ifit were passing the dead in review.

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By May fifteenth, we were offthe southern tip of the Great Banks of
Newfoundland. These banks are the resultof marine sedimentation, an extensive accumulation of
organic waste brought either from the equatorby the Gulf Stream's current or from the
North Pole by the counter current ofcold water that skirts the American coast.

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Here, too, erratically, driftingchunks collect from the ice break up.
Here, a huge bone yard formsfrom fish, mollusks, and zoophytes dying
over it by the billions. Thesea is of no great depth at the
Great Banks, a few hundred fathomsat best, But to the south there

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is a deep, suddenly occurring depression, a three thousand meter pit. Here,
the Gulf Stream widens, its waterscome to full blossom. It loses
its speed and temperature, but turnsinto a sea. Among the fish that
the Nautilus startled along its way,I'll mention a one meter lumpfish blackish on

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top, with an orange belly,and rare among its brethren in that it
practices monogamy. A good sized eelpout, a type of emerald mora whose flavor
is excellent. Wolfish with big eyesand a head that somewhat resembles a canines

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viviparis blennies whose eggs hatch inside theirbodies like those of snakes. Bloated gobio
or black gudgeon, measuring two decimeters, with long tails and gleaming with a
silvery glow. Speedy fish venturing farfrom their high Arctic seas. Our nets

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also hauled in a bold, daring, vigorous and muscular fish, armed with
prickles on its head and stings onits fins, A real scorpion measuring two
to three meters. The ruthless enemyof a cod, blennies and salmon.
It was the bullhead of the northerlyseas, a fish with red fins and

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a brown body covered with nodules.The Nautilus's fishermen had some trouble getting a
grip on this animal, which,thanks to the formation of its gill covers,
can protect its respiratory organs from anyparching contact with air and can live

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out of water for a good while, and I'll mention for the record some
little banded blennies that follow ships intothe northernmost seas, sharp snouted carp exclusive
to the North Atlantic scorpionfish, andlastly the go ed family, chiefly the
cod species, which I detected intheir waters of choice over these inexhaustible grand

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banks. Because Newfoundland is simply anunderwater peak, you could call these cod
mountain fish. While the nautilus wasclearing a path through their tight ranks,
Consul couldn't refrain from making this comment. Mercy, look at these cod,

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he said. Why I thought codwere flat like dab or sole innocent boy,
I exclaimed. Cod are only flatat the grocery store when they're cut
open and spread out on display.But in the water they're like mullet,
spin shaped and perfectly built for speed. I can easily believe, master Consuls

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replied, but what crowds of them? What swarms? Bah, my friend,
there'd be many more without their enemies, scorpion fish and human beings.
Do you know how many eggs havebeen counted in a single female. I'll
go all out, Console replied,five hundred thousand, eleven million, my

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friend, eleven million. I refuseto accept that until I count them myself.
So count them console, But itwould be less work to believe me.
Besides, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Americans, Danes and Norwegians catch these cod
by the thousands. They're eaten inprodigious quantities, and without the astounding fertility

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of these fish, the seas wouldsoon be depopulated of them. Accordingly,
In England and America alone, fivethousand ships manned by seventy five thousand seamen
go after cod. Each ship bringsback an average catch of four thousand,
four hundred fish, making twenty twomillion off the coast of Norway. It's

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the total is the same, fineConsul replied, I'll take the master's word
for it. I won't count them, count what those eleven million eggs,
But I'll make one comment. What'sthat if all their eggs hatched, just

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four codfish could feed England, Americaand Norway. As we skimmed the depths
of the Great Banks, I couldsee perfectly those long fishing lines, each
armed with two hundred hooks, thatevery boat dangled by the dozens. The
lower end of each line dragged thebottom by means of a small grappling iron,

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and at the surface it was securedto a buoy rope of a cork
float. The Nautilus had to maneuvershrewdly in the midst of this underwater spiderweb,
but the ship didn't stay long inthese heavily traveled waters. It went
up to about latitude forty two degrees. This brought it abreast of Saint John's

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in Newfoundland and Heart's Continent, wherethe Atlantic Cable reaches its end point.
Instead of continuing north, the Nautilustook an easterly heading, as if to
go along this plateau on which thetelegraph cable rests, where multiple soundings have
given the contours of the terrain withthe utmost accuracy. It was on May

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seventeenth, about five hundred miles fromHeart's Continent and about twenty eight hundred meters
down, that I spotted this cablelying on the seafloor. Consul, whom
I hadn't alerted, mistook it atfirst for a gigantic sea snake, and
was gearing up to classify it inhis best manner. But I enlightened him

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the fine lad and let him downgently by giving him various details on the
laying of this cable. The firstcable was put down during the years eighteen
fifty seven to eighteen fifty eight,but after transmitting about four hundred telegrams,
it went dead. In eighteen sixtythree, engineers built a new cable that

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measured three thousand, four hundred kilometers, weighing four thousand, five hundred metric
tons, and was shipped aboard theGreat Eastern. This attempt also failed.
Now then, on May twenty fifth, while submerged to a depth of three
thousand, eight hundred thirty six meters, the Nautilus lay in precisely the locality

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where this second cable suffered the rupturethat ruined the undertaking. It happened six
hundred thirty eight miles from the coastof Ireland. At around two o'clock in
the morning, all contact with Europebroke off. The electricians on board decided
to cut the cable before fishing itup, and by eleven o'clock that evening

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they had retrieved the damaged part.They repaired the joint and its splice.
Then the cable was re submerged,but a few days later it snapped again
and couldn't be recovered from the oceandepths. The Americans refused to give up.
The daring cypress Field, who hadrisked his whole fortune to promote this

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undertaking, called for a new bondissue. It sold out immediately. Another
cable was put down under better conditions. Its sheaved of a conducting wire were
insulated with a gut of percha covering, which was protected by a padding of
textile material enclosed in a metal sheath. The Great Eastern put back to sea

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on July thirteenth, eighteen sixty six. The operations proceeded apace, yet there
was one hitch. As they graduallyunrolled this third cable, the electricians observed
on several occasions that some one hadrecently driven nails into it, trying to
damage its core. Captain Anderson,his officers, and the engineers put their

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heads together, then posted a warningthat if the culprit were detected, would
be thrown overboard without a trial.After that, these villainous attempts were not
repeated. By July twenty third,the Great Eastern was lying no further than

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eight hundred kilometers from Newfoundland when itreceived telegraphed news from Ireland. Of an
armistice signed between Prussia and Austria afterthe Battle of Sadova. Through the mists
on the twenty seventh it sighted theport of Heart's Content. The undertakings had

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ended happily, and in its firstdispatch, Young America addressed Old Europe with
these wise words so rarely understood.Glory to God in the highest and peace
on earth to men of goodwill.I didn't expect to find this electric cable
in mint condition as it looked onleaving its place of manufacture. The long

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snake was covered with seashore rubble andbristling with fora minifera. A crust of
caked gravel protected it from any malisthat might bore into it. It rested
serenely, sheltered from the sea's motions, under a pressure favorable to the transmission

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of what electric spark that goes fromAmerica to Europe in thirty two one hundreds
of a second. This cable willno doubt last indefinitely, because, as
observers note, its guttapercha casing isimproved by stay in salt water. Besides,

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on this well chosen plateau, thecable never lies at depths that could
cause a break. The Nautilus followedit to its lowest reaches, located four
thousand, four hundred and thirty onemeters down, and even there it rested
without any stress or strain. Thenwe returned to the locality where the eighteen

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sixty three accident had taking place.There the ocean floor formed a valley one
hundred twenty kilometers wide into which youcould fit Mount Blanc without its summit poking
above the surface of the waves.This valley is closed off to the east

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by a sheer wall two thousand metershigh. We arrived there on May twenty
eighth, and the Nautilus lay nofarther than one hundred fifty kilometers from Ireland.
Would Captain Nemo head up north andbeach us on the British Isles.

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No, Much to my surprise,he went back down south and returned to
European seas. As we swung aroundthe Emerald Isle, I spotted Cape Clear
for an instant, plus the lighthouseon Fastnet Rock that guides all those thousands
of ships setting out from Glasgow orLiverpool. An important question then popped into

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my head. Would the Nautilus dareto tackle the English Channel? Ned Land,
who promptly reappeared after we hugged shore, never stopped questioning me. What
could I answer him? Captain Nemoremained invisible. After giving the Canadian a
glimpse of American shores? Was heabout to show me the coast of France?

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But the Nautilus kept gravitating southward.On May thirtieth, in sight of
Land's end, it passed between thelowermost tip of England and the Scilly Islands,
which it left behind to starboard.If it was going to enter the
English Channel, it clearly needed tohead east. It did not. All

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day long on May thirty first,the Nautilus swept around the sea in a
series of circles that had me deeplypuzzled. It seemed to be searching for
a locality that it had some troublefinding. At noon, Captain Nemo himself
came to take our bearings. Hedidn't address a word to me. He

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looked gloomier than ever. What wasfilling him with such sadness? Was it
our proximity to these European shores?Was he reliving his memories of that country
he had left behind. If so, what did he feel remorse or regret.
For a good while, these thoughtsoccupied my mind, and I had

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a hunch that fate would soon giveaway the Captain's secrets. The next day,
June first, the Nautilus kept tothe same tack. It was,
obviously to trying to locate some precisespot in the ocean. Just as on

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the day before, Captain Nemo cameto take the altitude of the sun.
The sea was smooth, the skiesclear. Eight miles to the east,
a big steamship was visible on thehorizon line. No flag was flapping from
it the gaff of its fore andaft sail, and I couldn't tell its
nationality. A few minutes before thesun passed its zenith, Captain Nemo raised

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his sextant and took his sights withthe utmost precision. The absolute calm of
the waves facilitated this operation. TheNautilus lay motionless, neither rolling nor pitching.
I was on the platform. Justthen, after determining our position,
the Captain pronounced only these words,it's right here. He went down the

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hatch. Had he seen that vesselchange course and seemingly head towards us,
I'm unable to say. I returnedto the lounge, the hatch closed,
and I heard water hissing in theballast tanks. The Nautilus began to sink
on a vertical line because its propellerwas in check and no longer furnished any

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forward motion. Some minutes later itstopped at a depth of eight hundred thirty
three meters and came to rest onthe seafloor. The ceiling lights in the
lounge then went out. The panelsopened, and through the windows I saw,
for a half mile radius the sea, brightly lit by the beacon's rays.

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I looked to port and saw nothingbut the immenseness of these tranquil waters.
To the starboard, a prominent bulgeon the sea d bottom caught my
attention. You would have thought itwas some ruin enshrouded in a crust of
whitened seashells, as if under amantle of snow. Carefully examining this mass,

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I could identify the swollen outlines ofa ship shorn of its masts,
which must have sunk a bow first. This casualty certainly dated from some far
off time. To be so cakedwith limestone of these waters, this wreckage
must have spent many a year onthe ocean floor. What ship was this?

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Why had the Nautilus come to visitits grave? Was it something other
than a maritime accident that had draggedthis craft under the waters? I wasn't
sure what to think, but nextto me I heard Captain Nemo's voice slowly
say. Originally this ship was christenedthe Marsillis. It carried seventy four cannons

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and was launched in seventeen sixty two. On August thirteenth, seventeen seventy eight,
commanded by La Poipe Veretroux, itfought valiantly against the Preston on July
fourth, seventeen seventy nine. Asa member of the squadron under Admiral d'estag,

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it assisted in the capture of theisland of Grenada. On September fifth,
seventeen eighty one. Under the Countde Grace, it took part in
the Battle of Chesapeake Bay. Inseventeen ninety four, the new Republic of
France changed the name of the ship. On April sixteenth of that same year,

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it joined the squadron at Brest underRear Admiral Vellerette de Joyce, who
was entrusted with escorting a convoy ofwheat coming from America under the command of
Admiral Vanstabel in the second year ofthe French Revolutionary calendar. On the eleventh

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and twelfth days of the month ofPasture, this squadron fought an encounter with
English vessels. Sir, Today isJune first, eighteen sixty eight, or
the thirteenth day in the month ofPasture. Seventy four years ago to the

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day, at this very spot,in latitude forty seven degrees twenty four minutes
and longitude seventeen degrees twenty eight minutes, this ship sank after heroic battle,
its three masts gone water in itshold, a third of its crew out
of action. It preferred to goto the bottom with its three hundred fifty

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six seamen rather than surrender, andwith its flag nailed up on the afterdeck,
it disappeared beneath the waves to shoutsof long Live the Republic. This
is the Avenger, I exclaimed,Yes, Sir, the Avenger a splendid
name. Captain Nemo murmured, crossinghis arms. End of recording. End

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of chapter twenty, recorded by TrevorStrok, date O three three zero zero
six Troy, New York