20,000 Leagues Under the Seas by Verne Jules Walter Frederick Paul

Author:Verne, Jules,Walter, Frederick Paul. [Raymond]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781438446653
Publisher: State University of New York Press
Published: 2013-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

27. A PEARL WORTH $2,000,000

ight fell. I went to bed. I didn't sleep very well. Man-eaters played a major role in my dreams. And I found it more or less appropriate that the French word for shark, requin, has its linguistic roots in the word requiem.

The next day at four o'clock in the morning, I was awakened by the steward whom Captain Nemo had assigned expressly to me. I quickly got up, dressed, and went into the lounge.

Captain Nemo was waiting for me.

“Are you ready, Professor Aronnax?” he said to me.

“I'm ready.”

“Kindly follow me.”

“What about my companions, captain?”

“They've been alerted and they're waiting for us.”

“Aren't we going to put on our diving suits?” I asked.

“Not yet. I haven't let the Nautilus pull too near the coast, and we're fairly well out from the Mannar oyster bed. But I have the skiff ready, and it will take us right to our jumping-off place and spare us a fairly long trek. It's carrying our diving equipment, and we'll suit up just before we start our underwater exploring.”

Captain Nemo took me to the central companionway, whose steps led to the platform. Ned and Conseil were there, excited about the “pleasure trip” getting under way. Oars poised, five of the Nautilus's sailors were waiting for us aboard the skiff, which was tied up alongside.

The night was still dark. Layers of clouds blanketed the sky and left only a few stars in view. My eyes flew to the side where land lay, but all I saw was a fuzzy line covering three-quarters of the horizon from southwest to northwest. Going up Ceylon's west coast during the night, the Nautilus lay west of the bay, or rather that gulf formed by the mainland and Mannar Island. Under these dark waters stretched the bed of shellfish, an inexhaustible field of pearls over twenty miles long.

Captain Nemo, Conseil, Ned Land, and I sat in the stern of the skiff. The longboat's coxswain took the tiller; his four companions leaned into their oars; we loosed our moorings and pulled clear.

The skiff headed southward. The rowers were in no hurry. I watched their oars vigorously catch the water, but they always paused ten seconds between strokes, following the practice used in most navies. While the longboat coasted, water drops flicked from the oars and hit the dark troughs of the billows, pitter-pattering like trickles of molten lead. A mild swell, coming in from well out, made the skiff roll gently, and the crests of a few waves lapped at its bow.

We sat in silence. What was Captain Nemo thinking about? Maybe that this nearby shore was too close for comfort, contrary to the Canadian's views in which it still seemed too far away. As for Conseil, he was there out of simple curiosity.

Near 5:30 the first tints on the horizon gave clearer emphasis to the upper edge of the coastline. It was fairly flat to the east but swelled a little toward the south. Five miles still separated it from us, and its beach merged with the misty waters.

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