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During
the
daytime
of
the
11th
of
December
I
was
busy
reading
in
the
large
drawing-room
.
Ned
Land
and
Conseil
watched
the
luminous
water
through
the
half-open
panels
.
The
Nautilus
was
immovable
.
While
its
reservoirs
were
filled
,
it
kept
at
a
depth
of
1,000
yards
,
a
region
rarely
visited
in
the
ocean
,
and
in
which
large
fish
were
seldom
seen
.
I
was
then
reading
a
charming
book
by
Jean
Mace
,
The
Slaves
of
the
Stomach
,
and
I
was
learning
some
valuable
lessons
from
it
,
when
Conseil
interrupted
me
.
"
Will
master
come
here
a
moment
?
"
he
said
,
in
a
curious
voice
.
"
What
is
the
matter
,
Conseil
?
"
"
I
want
master
to
look
.
"
I
rose
,
went
,
and
leaned
on
my
elbows
before
the
panes
and
watched
.
In
a
full
electric
light
,
an
enormous
black
mass
,
quite
immovable
,
was
suspended
in
the
midst
of
the
waters
.
I
watched
it
attentively
,
seeking
to
find
out
the
nature
of
this
gigantic
cetacean
.
But
a
sudden
thought
crossed
my
mind
.
"
A
vessel
!
"
I
said
,
half
aloud
.
"
Yes
,
"
replied
the
Canadian
,
"
a
disabled
ship
that
has
sunk
perpendicularly
.
"
Ned
Land
was
right
;
we
were
close
to
a
vessel
of
which
the
tattered
shrouds
still
hung
from
their
chains
.
The
keel
seemed
to
be
in
good
order
,
and
it
had
been
wrecked
at
most
some
few
hours
.
Three
stumps
of
masts
,
broken
off
about
two
feet
above
the
bridge
,
showed
that
the
vessel
had
had
to
sacrifice
its
masts
.
But
,
lying
on
its
side
,
it
had
filled
,
and
it
was
heeling
over
to
port
.
This
skeleton
of
what
it
had
once
been
was
a
sad
spectacle
as
it
lay
lost
under
the
waves
,
but
sadder
still
was
the
sight
of
the
bridge
,
where
some
corpses
,
bound
with
ropes
,
were
still
lying
.
I
counted
five
--
four
men
,
one
of
whom
was
standing
at
the
helm
,
and
a
woman
standing
by
the
poop
,
holding
an
infant
in
her
arms
.
She
was
quite
young
.
I
could
distinguish
her
features
,
which
the
water
had
not
decomposed
,
by
the
brilliant
light
from
the
Nautilus
.
In
one
despairing
effort
,
she
had
raised
her
infant
above
her
head
--
poor
little
thing
!
--
whose
arms
encircled
its
mother
's
neck
.
The
attitude
of
the
four
sailors
was
frightful
,
distorted
as
they
were
by
their
convulsive
movements
,
whilst
making
a
last
effort
to
free
themselves
from
the
cords
that
bound
them
to
the
vessel
.
The
steersman
alone
,
calm
,
with
a
grave
,
clear
face
,
his
grey
hair
glued
to
his
forehead
,
and
his
hand
clutching
the
wheel
of
the
helm
,
seemed
even
then
to
be
guiding
the
three
broken
masts
through
the
depths
of
the
ocean
.
