hen we reached the spot where the accident had taken place in
1863. The bottom of the ocean then formed a valley about 100 miles
broad, in which Mont Blanc might have been placed without its summit
appearing above the waves. This valley is closed at the east by a
perpendicular wall more than 2,000 yards high. We arrived there on the
28th of May, and the Nautilus was then not more than 120 miles from
Ireland.

Was Captain Nemo going to land on the British Isles? No. To my great
surprise he made for the south, once more coming back towards European
seas. In rounding the Emerald Isle, for one instant I caught sight of
Cape Clear, and the light which guides the thousands of vessels leaving
Glasgow or Liverpool. An important question then arose in my mind.
Did the Nautilus dare entangle itself in the Manche? Ned Land, who had
re-appeared since we had been nearing land, did not cease to question
me. How could I answer? Captain Nemo remained invisible. After
having shown the Canadian a glimpse of American shores, was he going to
show me the coast of France?

But the Nautilus was still going southward. On the 30th of May, it
passed in sight of Land's End, between the extreme point of England and
the Scilly Isles, which were left to starboard. If we wished to enter
the Manche, he must go straight to the east. He did not do so.

During the whole of the 31st of May, the Nautilus described a series of
circles on the water, which greatly interested me. It seemed to be
seeking a spot it had some trouble in finding. At noon, Captain Nemo
himself came to work the ship's log. He spoke no word to me, but
seemed gloomier than ever. What could sadden him thus? Was it his
proxim ity to European shores? Had he some recollections of his
abandoned country? If not, what did he feel? Remorse or regret? For
a long while this thought haunted my mind, and I had a kind of
presentiment that before long chance would betray the captain's secrets.

The next day, the 1st of June, the Nautilus continued the same process.
It was evidently seeking some particular spot in the ocean. Captain
Nemo took the sun's altitude as he had done the day before. The sea
was beautiful, the sky clear. About eight miles to the east, a large
steam vessel could be discerned on the horizon. No flag fluttered from
its mast, and I could not discover its nationality. Some minutes
before the sun passed the meridian, Captain Nemo took his sextant, and