In India, sir, there are roads, railways, towns inhabited by English, French, and Hindoos; one could not go for five miles without meeting a fellow-countryman. Is not this the time to stir up Captain Nemo’s sense of politeness?”
“No, Ned,” I replied, in a determined tone. “Let us go on as we are. The Nautilus is approaching habitable continents. We are returning towards Europe. Once arrived in our own seas we shall see what prudence suggests as best to be done. Besides, I do not suppose that Captain Nemo would permit us to go ashore to hunt upon the coasts of Malabar or Coromandel, as we did in the forests of New Guinea.”
“Well, but cannot we go without leave?”
I made no reply, for I did not wish to discuss this point. At heart I was ready to go through the adventure to the end.
After leaving Keeling Island our progress was slower and more erratic, leading us at times to great depths. The inclined planes were often used, and which levers within the vessel placed obliquely to the line of flotation. We went in this manner for about two miles, but without ever reaching the enormous depths of the Indian Sea, in which sounding lines of 7,000 fathoms have not touched bottom. The temperature of the low zones is always four degrees above zero. I observed, however, that in the upper zones the water was always colder in the high levels than in the open sea.
On the 25th January the ocean was absolutely deserted, the Nautilus passed the whole day at the surface, knocking up great waves with her powerful screw. Who would not, under these circumstances, have mistaken her for an enormous cetacean? I passed the greater portion of the day upon the platform, looking at the sea. There was nothing in sight
