Next day the Nautilus lay off Aden, which is perched up upon a promontory united to the mainland by a narrow isthmus—a miniature Gibraltar, the fortifications having been built by the English in 1839. I could see the octagon minarets of the town, which was formerly one of the richest commercial stations on the coast.
I was certain that Captain Nemo would now retrace his steps, but, to my surprise, he did nothing of the kind.
On the 7th we entered Bab-el-Mandeb, which in Arabic signifies “Gate of Tears.” The strait is twenty miles wide and about thirty long, and, for the Nautilus at full speed, the passage was accomplished in less than an hour. But I saw nothing, not even the island of Perim, by which the British Government has strengthened the position of Aden. Too many steamers of all nations passed this strait for the Nautilus to venture to show herself, so we prudently kept under water. At noon we were in the Red Sea. This sea, celebrated in Bible history, is scarcely refreshed by rain, nor is it supplied by any important river; it is subject to an excessive evaporation, and loses each year a layer of water about two yards high. A singular gulf, which, enclosed, and under similar conditions to a lake, would be dried up, and in this respect inferior to its neighbours the Caspian or the Dead Sea, the levels of which have only descended to the points where their evaporation exactly equals the amount of water received by them.
The Red Sea is between 1,500 and 1,600 miles long, and about 150 miles in width. At the time of the Ptolemys and the Roman Empire, it was the great commercial artery of the world; and the cutting of the Suez Canal will restore it to its former importance, a result that the railway has already partly brought about.
I did not even seek to understand the caprice of the
