CHAPTER XIII

THE ICEBERG

The _Nautilus_ was steadily pursuing its southerly course, following

the fiftieth meridian with considerable speed. Did he wish to reach the

pole? I did not think so, for every attempt to reach that point had

hitherto failed. Again, the season was far advanced, for in the

Antarctic regions the 13th of March corresponds with the 13th of

September of northern regions, which begin at the equinoctial season.

On the 14th of March I saw floating ice in latitude 55°, merely pale

bits of debris from twenty to twenty-five feet long, forming banks over

which the sea curled. The _Nautilus_ remained on the surface of the

ocean. Ned Land, who had fished in the Arctic Seas, was familiar with

its icebergs; but Conseil and I admired them for the first time. In the

atmosphere towards the southern horizon stretched a white dazzling

band. English whalers have given it the name of “ice blink.” However

thick the clouds may be, it is always visible, and announces the

presence of an ice pack or bank. Accordingly, larger blocks soon

appeared, whose brilliancy changed with the caprices of the fog. Some

of these masses showed green veins, as if long undulating lines had

been traced with sulphate of copper; others resembled enormous

amethysts with the light shining through them. Some reflected the light

of day upon a thousand crystal facets. Others shaded with vivid

calcareous reflections resembled a perfect town of marble. The more we

neared the south the more these floating islands increased both in

number and importance.

At 60° lat. every pass had disappeared. But, seeking carefully, Captain

Nemo soon found a narrow opening, through which he boldly slipped,

knowing, however, that it would close behind him. Thus, guided by this

clever hand, the _Nautilus_ passed through all the ice with a precision

which quite charmed Conseil; icebergs or mountains, ice-fields or

smooth plains, seeming to have no limits, drift-ice or floating

ice-packs, plains broken up, called palchs when they are circular, and

streams when they are made up of long strips. The temperature was very

low; the thermometer exposed to the air marked 2 deg. or 3° below zero,

but we were warmly clad with fur, at the expense of the sea-bear and

seal. The interior of the _Nautilus_, warmed regularly by its electric

apparatus, defied the most intense cold. Besides, it would only have

been necessary to go some yards beneath the waves to find a more

bearable temperature. Two months earlier we should have had perpetual

daylight in these latitudes; but already we had had three or four hours

of night, and by and by there would be six months of darkness in these

circumpolar regions. On the 15th of March we were in the latitude of

New Shetland and South Orkney. The Captain told me that formerly

numerous tribes of seals inhabited them; but that English and American

whalers, in their rage for destruction, massacred both old and young;

thus, where there was once life and animation, they had left silence

and death.

About eight o’clock on the morning of the 16th of March the _Nautilus_,

following the fifty-fifth meridian, cut the Antarctic polar circle. Ice

surrounded us on all sides, and closed the horizon. But Captain Nemo

went from one opening to another, still going higher. I cannot express

my astonishment at the beauties of these new regions. The ice took most

surprising forms. Here the grouping formed an oriental town, with

innumerable mosques and minarets; there a fallen city thrown to the

earth, as it were, by some convulsion of nature. The whole aspect was

constantly changed by the oblique rays of the sun, or lost in the

greyish fog amidst hurricanes of snow. Detonations and falls were heard

on all sides, great overthrows of icebergs, which altered the whole

landscape like a diorama. Often seeing no exit, I thought we were

definitely prisoners; but, instinct guiding him at the slightest

indication, Captain Nemo would discover a new pass. He was never

mistaken when he saw the thin threads of bluish water trickling along

the ice-fields; and I had no doubt that he had already ventured into

the midst of these Antarctic seas before. On the 16th of March,

however, the ice-fields absolutely blocked our road. It was not the

iceberg itself, as yet, but vast fields cemented by the cold. But this

obstacle could not stop Captain Nemo: he hurled himself against it with

frightful violence. The _Nautilus_ entered the brittle mass like a

wedge, and split it with frightful crackings. It was the battering ram

of the ancients hurled by infinite strength. The ice, thrown high in

the air, fell like hail around us. By its own power of impulsion our

apparatus made a canal for itself; some times carried away by its own

impetus, it lodged on the ice-field, crushing it with its weight, and

sometimes buried beneath it, dividing it by a simple pitching movement,

producing large rents in it. Violent gales assailed us at this time,

accompanied by thick fogs, through which, from one end of the platform

to the other, we could see nothing. The wind blew sharply from all

parts of the compass, and the snow lay in such hard heaps that we had

to break it with blows of a pickaxe. The temperature was always at 5

deg. below zero; every outward part of the _Nautilus_ was covered with

ice. A rigged vessel would have been entangled in the blocked up

gorges. A vessel without sails, with electricity for its motive power,

and wanting no coal, could alone brave such high latitudes. At length,

on the 18th of March, after many useless assaults, the _Nautilus_ was

positively blocked. It was no longer either streams, packs, or

ice-fields, but an interminable and immovable barrier, formed by

mountains soldered together.

“An iceberg!” said the Canadian to me.

I knew that to Ned Land, as well as to all other navigators who had

preceded us, this was an inevitable obstacle. The sun appearing for an

instant at noon, Captain Nemo took an observation as near as possible,

which gave our situation at 51° 30′ long. and 67° 39′ of S. lat. We had

advanced one degree more in this Antarctic region. Of the liquid

surface of the sea there was no longer a glimpse. Under the spur of the

_Nautilus_ lay stretched a vast plain, entangled with confused blocks.

Here and there sharp points and slender needles rising to a height of

200 feet; further on a steep shore, hewn as it were with an axe and

clothed with greyish tints; huge mirrors, reflecting a few rays of

sunshine, half drowned in the fog. And over this desolate face of

nature a stern silence reigned, scarcely broken by the flapping of the

wings of petrels and puffins. Everything was frozen—even the noise. The

_Nautilus_ was then obliged to stop in its adventurous course amid

these fields of ice. In spite of our efforts, in spite of the powerful

means employed to break up the ice, the _Nautilus_ remained immovable.

Generally, when we can proceed no further, we have return still open to

us; but here return was as impossible as advance, for every pass had

closed behind us; and for the few moments when we were stationary, we

were likely to be entirely blocked, which did indeed happen about two

o’clock in the afternoon, the fresh ice forming around its sides with

astonishing rapidity. I was obliged to admit that Captain Nemo was more

than imprudent. I was on the platform at that moment. The Captain had

been observing our situation for some time past, when he said to me:

“Well, sir, what do you think of this?”

“I think that we are caught, Captain.”

[Illustration] The _Nautilus_ was blocked up

“So, M. Aronnax, you really think that the _Nautilus_ cannot disengage

itself?”

“With difficulty, Captain; for the season is already too far advanced

for you to reckon on the breaking of the ice.”

“Ah! sir,” said Captain Nemo, in an ironical tone, “you will always be

the same. You see nothing but difficulties and obstacles. I affirm that

not only can the _Nautilus_ disengage itself, but also that it can go

further still.”

“Further to the South?” I asked, looking at the Captain.

“Yes, sir; it shall go to the pole.”

“To the pole!” I exclaimed, unable to repress a gesture of incredulity.

“Yes,” replied the Captain, coldly, “to the Antarctic pole—to that

unknown point from whence springs every meridian of the globe. You know

whether I can do as I please with the _Nautilus!_”

Yes, I knew that. I knew that this man was bold, even to rashness. But

to conquer those obstacles which bristled round the South Pole,

rendering it more inaccessible than the North, which had not yet been

reached by the boldest navigators—was it not a mad enterprise, one

which only a maniac would have conceived? It then came into my head to

ask Captain Nemo if he had ever discovered that pole which had never

yet been trodden by a human creature?

“No, sir,” he replied; “but we will discover it together. Where others

have failed, I will not fail. I have never yet led my _Nautilus_ so far

into southern seas; but, I repeat, it shall go further yet.”

“I can well believe you, Captain,” said I, in a slightly ironical tone.

“I believe you! Let us go ahead! There are no obstacles for us! Let us

smash this iceberg! Let us blow it up; and, if it resists, let us give

the _Nautilus_ wings to fly over it!”

“Over it, sir!” said Captain Nemo, quietly; “no, not over it, but under

it!”

“Under it!” I exclaimed, a sudden idea of the Captain’s projects

flashing upon my mind. I understood; the wonderful qualities of the

_Nautilus_ were going to serve us in this superhuman enterprise.

“I see we are beginning to understand one another, sir,” said the

Captain, half smiling. “You begin to see the possibility—I should say

the success—of this attempt. That which is impossible for an ordinary

vessel is easy to the _Nautilus_. If a continent lies before the pole,

it must stop before the continent; but if, on the contrary, the pole is

washed by open sea, it will go even to the pole.”

“Certainly,” said I, carried away by the Captain’s reasoning; “if the

surface of the sea is solidified by the ice, the lower depths are free

by the Providential law which has placed the maximum of density of the

waters of the ocean one degree higher than freezing-point; and, if I am

not mistaken, the portion of this iceberg which is above the water is

as one to four to that which is below.”

“Very nearly, sir; for one foot of iceberg above the sea there are

three below it. If these ice mountains are not more than 300 feet above

the surface, they are not more than 900 beneath. And what are 900 feet

to the _Nautilus?_”

“Nothing, sir.”

“It could even seek at greater depths that uniform temperature of

sea-water, and there brave with impunity the thirty or forty degrees of

surface cold.”

“Just so, sir—just so,” I replied, getting animated.

“The only difficulty,” continued Captain Nemo, “is that of remaining

several days without renewing our provision of air.”

“Is that all? The _Nautilus_ has vast reservoirs; we can fill them, and

they will supply us with all the oxygen we want.”

“Well thought of, M. Aronnax,” replied the Captain, smiling. “But, not

wishing you to accuse me of rashness, I will first give you all my

objections.”

“Have you any more to make?”

“Only one. It is possible, if the sea exists at the South Pole, that it

may be covered; and, consequently, we shall be unable to come to the

surface.”

“Good, sir! but do you forget that the _Nautilus_ is armed with a

powerful spur, and could we not send it diagonally against these fields

of ice, which would open at the shocks.”

“Ah! sir, you are full of ideas to-day.”

“Besides, Captain,” I added, enthusiastically, “why should we not find

the sea open at the South Pole as well as at the North? The frozen

poles of the earth do not coincide, either in the southern or in the

northern regions; and, until it is proved to the contrary, we may

suppose either a continent or an ocean free from ice at these two

points of the globe.”

“I think so too, M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo. “I only wish you to

observe that, after having made so many objections to my project, you

are now crushing me with arguments in its favour!”

The preparations for this audacious attempt now began. The powerful

pumps of the _Nautilus_ were working air into the reservoirs and

storing it at high pressure. About four o’clock, Captain Nemo announced

the closing of the panels on the platform. I threw one last look at the

massive iceberg which we were going to cross. The weather was clear,

the atmosphere pure enough, the cold very great, being 12° below zero;

but, the wind having gone down, this temperature was not so unbearable.

About ten men mounted the sides of the _Nautilus_, armed with pickaxes

to break the ice around the vessel, which was soon free. The operation

was quickly performed, for the fresh ice was still very thin. We all

went below. The usual reservoirs were filled with the newly-liberated

water, and the _Nautilus_ soon descended. I had taken my place with

Conseil in the saloon; through the open window we could see the lower

beds of the Southern Ocean. The thermometer went up, the needle of the

compass deviated on the dial. At about 900 feet, as Captain Nemo had

foreseen, we were floating beneath the undulating bottom of the

iceberg. But the _Nautilus_ went lower still—it went to the depth of

four hundred fathoms. The temperature of the water at the surface

showed twelve degrees, it was now only ten; we had gained two. I need

not say the temperature of the _Nautilus_ was raised by its heating

apparatus to a much higher degree; every manœuvre was accomplished with

wonderful precision.

“We shall pass it, if you please, sir,” said Conseil.

“I believe we shall,” I said, in a tone of firm conviction.

In this open sea, the _Nautilus_ had taken its course direct to the

pole, without leaving the fifty-second meridian. From 67° 30′ to 90

deg., twenty-two degrees and a half of latitude remained to travel;

that is, about five hundred leagues. The _Nautilus_ kept up a mean

speed of twenty-six miles an hour—the speed of an express train. If

that was kept up, in forty hours we should reach the pole.

For a part of the night the novelty of the situation kept us at the

window. The sea was lit with the electric lantern; but it was deserted;

fishes did not sojourn in these imprisoned waters; they only found

there a passage to take them from the Antarctic Ocean to the open polar

sea. Our pace was rapid; we could feel it by the quivering of the long

steel body. About two in the morning I took some hours’ repose, and

Conseil did the same. In crossing the waist I did not meet Captain

Nemo: I supposed him to be in the pilot’s cage. The next morning, the

19th of March, I took my post once more in the saloon. The electric log

told me that the speed of the _Nautilus_ had been slackened. It was

then going towards the surface; but prudently emptying its reservoirs

very slowly. My heart beat fast. Were we going to emerge and regain the

open polar atmosphere? No! A shock told me that the _Nautilus_ had

struck the bottom of the iceberg, still very thick, judging from the

deadened sound. We had in deed “struck,” to use a sea expression, but

in an inverse sense, and at a thousand feet deep. This would give three

thousand feet of ice above us; one thousand being above the water-mark.

The iceberg was then higher than at its borders—not a very reassuring

fact. Several times that day the _Nautilus_ tried again, and every time

it struck the wall which lay like a ceiling above it. Sometimes it met

with but 900 yards, only 200 of which rose above the surface. It was

twice the height it was when the _Nautilus_ had gone under the waves. I

carefully noted the different depths, and thus obtained a submarine

profile of the chain as it was developed under the water. That night no

change had taken place in our situation. Still ice between four and

five hundred yards in depth! It was evidently diminishing, but, still,

what a thickness between us and the surface of the ocean! It was then

eight. According to the daily custom on board the _Nautilus_, its air

should have been renewed four hours ago; but I did not suffer much,

although Captain Nemo had not yet made any demand upon his reserve of

oxygen. My sleep was painful that night; hope and fear besieged me by

turns: I rose several times. The groping of the _Nautilus_ continued.

About three in the morning, I noticed that the lower surface of the

iceberg was only about fifty feet deep. One hundred and fifty feet now

separated us from the surface of the waters. The iceberg was by degrees

becoming an ice-field, the mountain a plain. My eyes never left the

manometer. We were still rising diagonally to the surface, which

sparkled under the electric rays. The iceberg was stretching both above

and beneath into lengthening slopes; mile after mile it was getting

thinner. At length, at six in the morning of that memorable day, the

19th of March, the door of the saloon opened, and Captain Nemo

appeared.

“The sea is open!” was all he said.