a remembrance of them?"

"Would you like to carry away more than the remembrance?" said Captain
Nemo.

"What do you mean by those words?"

"I mean to say that nothing is easier than to make a photographic view
of this submarine region."

I had not time to express my surprise at this new proposition, when, at
Captain Nemo's call, an objective was brought into the saloon. Through
the widely-opened panel, the liquid mass was bright with electricity,
which was distributed with such uniformity that not a shadow, not a
gradation, was to be seen in our manufactured light. The Nautilus
remained motionless, the force of its screw subdued by the inclination
of its planes: the instrument was propped on the bottom of the oceanic
site, and in a few seconds we had obtained a perfect negative.

But, the operation being over, Captain Nemo said, "Let us go up; we
must not abuse our position, nor expose the Nautilus too long to such
great pressure."

"Go up again!" I exclaimed.

"Hold well on."

I had not time to understand why the Captain cautioned me thus, when I
was thrown forward on to the carpet. At a signal from the Captain, its
screw was shipped, and its blades raised vertically; the Nautilus shot
into the air like a balloon, rising with stunning rapidity, and cutting
the mass of waters with a sonorous agitation. Nothing was visible; and
in four minutes it had shot through the four leagues which separated it
from the ocean, and, after emerging like a flying-fish, fell, making
the waves rebound to an enormous height.

CHAPTER XII

CACHALOTS AND WHALES

During the nights of the 13th and 14th of March, the Nautilus returned
to its southerly course. I fancied that, when on a level with Cape
Horn, he would turn the helm westward, in order to beat the Pacific
seas, and so complete the tour of the world. He did nothing of the
kind, but continued on his way to the southern regions. Where was he
going to? To the pole? It was madness! I began to think that the
Captain's temerity justified Ned Land's fears. For some time past the
Canadian had not spoken to me of his projects of flight; he was less
communicative, almost silent. I could see that this lengthened
imprisonment was weighing upon him, and I felt that rage was burning
within him. When he met the Captain, his eyes lit up with suppressed
anger; and I feared that his natural violence would lead him into some
extreme. That day, the 14th of March, Conse