During the whole of the 31st, the Nautilus described a series of circles in the sea, which puzzled me greatly. It seemed as if search were being made to find a spot difficult to hit on. At mid-day Captain Nemo came up on the platform to take the position himself. He did not speak a word, and seemed more reserved than ever. What had made him so sad? Was it the proximity of the European shores? Had he some remembrances of his abandoned native land? This thought haunted me, and I began to think that I should soon, by a happy chance, discover the captain’s secrets.
Next day, the 1st of June, the Nautilus continued her manœuvres. It was evident some precise spot was wanted. Captain Nemo came up, as on the previous day. The sea was calm, the sky clear. Eight miles off a great steamer trailed a line of smoke across the horizon. She showed no colours, and I could not ascertain her nationality.
Captain Nemo took his sextant and began to observe the sun, some minutes before it reached the meridian. The absolute calm assisted this operation. The Nautilus did not move at all.
I was on the platform at that time. When the observation had been completed, Captain Nemo merely said:
“Here it is!” and descended to his room.
Had he seen the ship, which had changed her course and now approached us? I could not tell.
I returned to the saloon. The panel was shut. I heard the water entering the reservoirs. The Nautilus sank direct, for the screw did not move.
A few minutes later we were aground at 835 yards. The ceiling was lighted up, the windows were opened, and I could watch the sea, brilliantly illuminated by our electric lamp for half a mile round.
To port there was nothing but the watery expanse; but
