Iknew that he was rising.Icould even see him,for the light from the library came through to the saloon.He came towards me silently,with his arms crossed,gliding like a spectre rather than walking.
His breast was swelling with sobs;and Iheard him murmur these words (the last which ever struck my ear):
"Almighty God!enough!enough!"
Was it a confession of remorse which thus escaped from this man's conscience?
In desperation,Irushed through the library,mounted the central staircase,and,following the upper flight,reached the boat.
Icrept through the opening,which had already admitted my two companions.
"Let us go!let us go!"Iexclaimed.
"Directly!"replied the Canadian.
The orifice in the plates of the Nautilus was first closed,and fastened down by means of a false key,with which Ned Land had provided himself;the opening in the boat was also closed.
The Canadian began to loosen the bolts which still held us to the submarine boat.
Suddenly a noise was heard.Voices were answering each other loudly.
What was the matter?Had they discovered our flight?
Ifelt Ned Land slipping a dagger into my hand.
"Yes,"Imurmured,"we know how to die!"
The Canadian had stopped in his work.But one word many times repeated,a dreadful word,revealed the cause of the agitation spreading on board the Nautilus.It was not we the crew were looking after!
"The maelstrom!the maelstrom!"Could a more dreadful word in a more dreadful situation have sounded in our ears!We were then upon the dangerous coast of Norway.Was the Nautilus being drawn into this gulf at the moment our boat was going to leave its sides?
We knew that at the tide the pent-up waters between the islands of Ferroe and Loffoden rush with irresistible violence,forming a whirlpool from which no vessel ever escapes.
From every point of the horizon enormous waves were meeting,forming a gulf justly called the "Navel of the Ocean,"whose power of attraction extends to a distance of twelve miles.
There,not only vessels,but whales are sacrificed,as well as white bears from the northern regions.
It is thither that the Nautilus,voluntarily or involuntarily,had been run by the Captain.
It was describing a spiral,the circumference of which was lessening by degrees,and the boat,which was still fastened to its side,was carried along with giddy speed.Ifelt that sickly giddiness which arises from long-continued whirling round.
We were in dread.Our horror was at its height,circulation had stopped,all nervous influence was annihilated,and we were covered with cold sweat,like a sweat of agony!And what noise around our frail bark!
What roarings repeated by the echo miles away!What an uproar was that of the waters broken on the sharp rocks at the bottom,where the hardest bodies are crushed,and trees worn away,"with all the fur rubbed off,"according to the Norwegian phrase!
What a situation to be in!We rocked frightfully.The Nautilus defended itself like a human being.Its steel muscles cracked.
Sometimes it seemed to stand upright,and we with it!
"We must hold on,"said Ned,"and look after the bolts.
We may still be saved if we stick to the Nautilus."He had not finished the words,when we heard a crashing noise,the bolts gave way,and the boat,torn from its groove,was hurled like a stone from a sling into the midst of the whirlpool.
My head struck on a piece of iron,and with the violent shock Ilost all consciousness.
