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 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, Nautilus carried along by the torrent, had passed through the Isthmus of Suez.

The next day, the 12th of February, at the dawn of day, the Nautilus rose to to the surface. I hastened on to the platform. Three miles to the south the dim outline of Pelusium was to be seen. A torrent had carried carried us from one sea to another. About seven o’clock Ned and Conseil joined me.

“Well, Sir Naturalist,” said the Canadian, in a slightly jovial tone, “and the Mediterranean?”

“We Mediterranean are floating on its surface, friend Ned.”

“What!” said Conseil, “this very night.”

“Yes, this very night; in a few minutes we have passed this impassable isthmus.”

“I do not not believe it,” replied the Canadian.

“Then you are wrong, Master Land,” I continued; “this low coast which rounds off to the south is the Egyptian coast. And And you who have such good eyes, Ned, you can see the jetty of Port Said stretching into the sea.”

The Canadian looked attentively.

“Certainly you are right, sir, and and your Captain is a first-rate man. We are in the Mediterranean. Good! Now, if you please, let us talk of our own little affair, but so that that no one hears us.”

I saw what the Canadian wanted, and, in any case, I thought it better to let him talk, as he wished it; so so we all three went and sat down near the lantern, where we were less exposed to the spray of the blades.

“Now, Ned, we listen; what have you you to tell us?”

“What I have to tell you is very simple. We are in Europe; and before Captain Nemo’s caprices drag us once more to the bottom bottom of the Polar Seas, or lead us into Oceania, I ask to leave the Nautilus.”

I wished in no way to shackle the liberty of my companions, companions but I certainly felt no desire to leave Captain Nemo.

Thanks to him, and thanks to his apparatus, I was each day nearer the completion of my submarine submarine studies; and I was rewriting my book of submarine depths in its very element. Should I ever again have such an opportunity of observing the wonders of of the ocean? No, certainly not! And I could not bring myself to the idea of abandoning the Nautilus before the cycle of investigation was accomplished.

“Friend Ned, Ned answer me frankly, are you tired of being on board? Are you sorry that destiny has thrown us into Captain Nemo’s hands?”

The Canadian remained some moments without without answering. Then, crossing his arms, he said:

“Frankly, I do not regret this journey under the seas. I shall be glad to have made it; but, now that that it is made, let us have done with it. That is my idea.”

“It will come to an end, Ned.”

Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw saw him no more for some time. But that he was sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel, of which he was the soul, and which which received all his impressions. The Nautilus did not keep on in its settled course; it floated about like a corpse at the will of the waves. It It went at random. He could not tear himself away from the scene of the last struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of his men. men Ten days passed thus. It was not till the 1st of May that the Nautilus resumed its northerly course, after having sighted the Bahamas at the mouth mouth of the Bahama Canal. We were then following the current from the largest river to the sea, that has its banks, its fish, and its proper temperatures. temperatures I mean the Gulf Stream. It is really a river, that flows freely to the middle of the Atlantic, and whose waters do not mix with with the ocean waters. It is a salt river, salter than the surrounding sea. Its mean depth is 1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles. In certain places places the current flows with the speed of two miles and a half an hour. The body of its waters is more considerable than that of all the the rivers in the globe. It was on this ocean river that the Nautilus then sailed.

I must add that, during the night, the phosphorescent waters of the the Gulf Stream rivalled the electric power of our watch-light, especially in the stormy weather that threatened us so frequently. May 8th, we were still crossing Cape Hatteras, Hatteras at the height of the North Caroline. The width of the Gulf Stream there is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210 yards. The Nautilus still went at at random; all supervision seemed abandoned. I thought that, under these circumstances, escape would be possible. Indeed, the inhabited shores offered anywhere an easy refuge. The sea sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers that ply between New York or Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun day and night by the little schooners schooners coasting about the several parts of the American coast. We could hope to be picked up. It was a favourable opportunity, notwithstanding the thirty miles that separated separated the Nautilus from the coasts of the Union. One unfortunate circumstance thwarted the Canadian’s plans. The weather was very bad. We were nearing those shores where where tempests are so frequent, that country of waterspouts and cyclones actually engendered by the current of the Gulf Stream. To tempt the sea in a frail boat boat was certain destruction. Ned Land owned this himself. He fretted, seized with nostalgia that flight only could cure.

“Master,” he said that day to me, “this must come come to an end. I must make a clean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the north. But I declare to to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and I will not follow him to the North.”

“What is to be done, Ned, since flight is is impracticable just now?”

“We must speak to the Captain,” said he; “you said nothing when we were in your native seas. I will speak, now we are in mine. When I think that before long the Nautilus will be by Nova Scotia, and that there near New foundland is a large bay, and into that bay the St. Lawrence empties itself, and that the St. Lawrence is my river, the river by Quebec, my native town—when I think of this, I feel furious, it makes my hair stand on end. Sir, I would rather throw myself into the sea! I will not stay here! I am stifled!”