appeared to attract, to fascinate, and to draw the pursuer along as if it were being towed.
The moon was passing to the meridian. Jupiter was rising in the east. Amid this peace, heaven and the ocean rivalled each other in tranquillity, and the sea offered to the stars as lovely a mirror as had ever been presented for their reflection, And when I considered this holy calm of the elements, compared to the passions raging in the Nautilus, I felt chilled to the heart.
The man-of-war was within two miles of us. It was approaching nearer and nearer to that phosphorescent gleam which betrayed the whereabouts of the Nautilus. I saw the lights—green and red—and the white lamp suspended to the mizzen “stay.” A sort of vibration seemed to make the rigging quiver, which indicated a very high pressure of working. Sparks flew up from the funnels, and shone in the air like stars.
I remained thus till 4 a.m., without Captain Nemo having perceived me. The ship was now a mile and a half away, and at dawn the cannonade recommenced. The moment could not be far distant when, as the Nautilus attacked the ship, we could make our escape.
I was about to descend, when the mate appeared upon the platform. Several sailors accompanied him. Captain Nemo either did not see, or did not wish to see them. Certain preparations for action were made. They were very simple. The railing round the platform was removed; in the same way the lantern and pilot cages were lowered to a level with the deck. The surface of the long cigar-shaped vessel did not offer a single obstruction to its free manœuvring.
I returned to the saloon, the Nautilus still on the surface. The morning rays were beginning to penetrate the
