We skimmed through the waves of the Indian Ocean, a vast liquid plain containing five hundred and fifty millions of hectares,[1] and the water is so transparent as to make those giddy who lean over them. The Nautilus usually floated at a depth of between 100 and 200 yards (metres). So we passed many days. To any one but myself, who is so passionately fond of the sea, the hours would have appeared, no doubt, long and wearisome; but the daily walks upon the platform, where I was able to drink in the healthy sea-air, the sight of the teeming waters through the crystal side-panels of the saloon, the books, the editing of my memoirs, engaged all my time, and did not leave me a moment for lassitude or ennui.
The health of the whole ship’s company was still extremely good. The food suited us perfectly, and, for my own part, I could well have dispensed with the variations which Ned Land, in his spirit of protestation, studied hard to supply. Besides, in this even temperature we had no fear of catching cold, while the Madrepore dendrophylle, known in Provence as the “Sea-fennel,” and of which a supply remained on board, furnished us by the melted flesh of its polyps with an excellent remedy against coughs.
We saw great numbers of aquatic birds as we proceeded; there were palmipeds, sea-mews and gulls, some of which we shot, and prepared in a particular way, furnished us with an acceptable supply of “water game.” Amongst the larger birds which had flown long distances and were resting upon the water, I perceived a magnificent albatross, whose discordant cry is not unlike a donkey’s bray. It belongs to the family of “longipennes.” The family of totipalmes was represented by the frigate birds, which rapidly brought the
- ↑ A hectare is 2 acres, 1 rood, 35 perches.
