Part 1 · Chapter 19Torres Straits

During the night of December twenty-seventh or twenty-eighth, the Nautilus shot away from the shores of Vanikoro, super fast. She was headed southwest, and in just three days, she covered over seven hundred and fifty leagues - that’s like, a ton of distance - separating it from La Perouse’s group and the southeast tip of Papua.

Early on January first, eighteen sixty-three, Conseil joined me on the platform.

"Master, can I wish you a happy New Year?"

"What? Conseil? It's like I’m back in Paris, in my study at the Jardin des Plantes? Well, I accept your wishes, and thanks. But seriously, what does a ‘Happy New Year’ even mean for us right now? Do you mean the year that finally gets us out of this, or the year we keep on this crazy adventure?"

"Honestly, I don’t know how to answer, master. We’re bound to see some wild stuff, and the last two months have been anything but boring. The latest thing we saw was the most amazing; and if this keeps up, I have no idea where it’s going to end."

"I really don’t think we’ll ever see anything like it again. So, no offense to you, master, but a happy year for me would be one where we get to see everything."

On January second, we’d clocked eleven thousand, three hundred and forty miles, or five thousand, two hundred and fifty French leagues, since we started in the Japan Seas. Ahead of the ship stretched the dangerous shores of the coral sea, along the northeast coast of Australia.

We were a few miles from the seriously rough bank where Cook’s ship went down, back on June tenth, seventeen seventy. The ship Cook was on got smacked by a rock, and somehow didn’t sink - apparently, a piece of coral broke off from the impact and jammed itself into the broken keel.

I really wanted to check out the reef - it was three hundred and sixty leagues long, and the sea was constantly crashing against it with a noise like thunder. But right then, the Nautilus started diving deep, and I couldn’t see anything of those high coral walls.

I had to settle for the different fish samples brought up by the nets. I noticed some germons, a type of mackerel as big as a tunny, with bluish sides and stripes that disappeared when the fish died.

These fish followed us in huge schools, and they were really tasty. We also caught a ton of gilt-heads, about one and a half inches long, that tasted like dorys. And flying pyrapeds - they were like underwater swallows that lit up the air and water with their phosphorescent glow on dark nights.

Among the mollusks and zoophytes, I found several species of alcyonarians, echini, hammers, spurs, dials, cerites, and hyalleae caught in the nets. The plant life was represented by beautiful floating seaweeds, laminariae, and macrocystes, covered in a sticky substance that oozed from their pores.

I even gathered an amazing Nemastoma Geliniarois, which I added to the museum’s collection of natural curiosities.

Two days after crossing the coral sea, on January fourth, we spotted the Papuan coasts. Captain Nemo told me he planned to get into the Indian Ocean through the Torres Straits. And that was it - he didn't say anything else.

The Torres Straits are almost thirty-four leagues wide, but they're packed with a crazy amount of islands, tiny islets, reefs, and rocks, making navigation almost impossible. So, Captain Nemo took extra precautions to get through.

The Nautilus, floating between the wind and the water, moved at a steady pace. Her propeller, like a whale’s tail, beat the waves slowly.

Taking advantage of that, my two friends and I headed up to the deserted platform. Right in front of us was the steersman’s station, and I figured Captain Nemo was there, calling the shots and guiding the Nautilus. I had the awesome charts of Torres Strait with me, and I studied them closely.

The sea was crashing against the Nautilus all around. The waves, coming from southeast to northwest at about two and a half miles an hour, were breaking on the coral reefs that were popping up here and there.

"This is rough water!" Ned Land said.

"Seriously rough, and not the kind of sea a boat like the Nautilus should be in," I replied.

"The Captain has to be super sure of his route, because I see pieces of coral that could totally wreck the keel if it even brushes against them," Ned added.

The situation was definitely sketchy, but the Nautilus seemed to glide past the rocks like magic. It wasn’t following the exact routes of the Astrolabe and the Zelee, which turned out pretty badly for Dumont d’Urville.

Instead, it was heading more north, hugging the Murray Islands, and then swinging back southwest towards Cumberland Passage.

I thought it was going to skip it altogether, but then, turning back northwest, it sliced through a bunch of little-known islands and islets, towards Island Sound and Canal Mauvais.

I was wondering if Captain Nemo, totally reckless, would steer his ship into that same spot where Dumont d’Urville’s two corvettes ran aground. But then, swerving again and cutting straight west, he steered towards Gilboa Island.

It was three in the afternoon. The tide was starting to go out, having been really high. The Nautilus was approaching the island, which I could still see, with its crazy border of screw-pines. He kept it about two miles out. Suddenly, I got thrown off my feet.

The Nautilus just bumped a rock, and it stopped, listing slightly to the left.

When I got up, I saw Captain Nemo and his lieutenant on the platform. They were checking out the ship’s situation and talking to each other in that weird language they speak.

The ship was like this: Two miles to the right was Gilboa, stretching from north to west like a huge arm. Some coral was showing up to the south and east, left behind by the receding tide.

We’d run aground, and in one of those seas where the tides aren’t super strong - a pretty bad situation for a floating vessel like the Nautilus. But the ship hadn’t been damaged, because the keel was solid.

Still, if it couldn’t slide off or move, it risked being stuck to these rocks forever, and then Captain Nemo’s submarine would be done for.

I was thinking all this when the Captain, cool and calm as always, approached me. "Just an accident?" I asked. "No; an incident."

"But an incident that might force you to become a resident of this land you’re running from?"

Captain Nemo looked at me strangely and gave a negative gesture, basically saying nothing would make him set foot on land again. Then he said:

"Besides, M. Aronnax, the Nautilus isn’t lost; it will still take you into the middle of the ocean’s wonders. Our journey has only just begun, and I don’t want to be deprived of your company so soon."

"Still, Captain Nemo," I replied, not noticing the sarcastic tone in his voice, "the Nautilus ran aground in the open ocean. And the tides aren’t that strong in the Pacific; and if you can’t lighten the Nautilus, I don’t see how it’s going to float again."

"The tides aren’t strong in the Pacific: you’re right about that, Professor; but in Torres Strait, there’s still a difference of a yard and a half between high and low tide. Today is January fourth, and in five days the moon will be full."

"Now, I’m betting that satellite will raise these masses of water enough to help me out, and I’ll owe her a favor."

Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, headed back inside the Nautilus. The ship didn't move, completely stuck, like coral had already built a wall around it with its super-strong cement.

"So, sir?" said Ned Land, catching up to me after the Captain left.

"We’ll just wait for the tide on the ninth, friend. Looks like the moon is going to push it off again." "Seriously?" "Seriously."

"And this Captain isn’t dropping anchor at all, since the tide will be enough?" asked Conseil, simply.

The Canadian looked at Conseil, then shrugged.

"Look, I’m telling you, this hunk of iron isn’t going to sail on or under the sea again. It’s only good for scrap metal. I think it’s time we split from Captain Nemo."

"I’m not giving up on this tough Nautilus, Ned. In four days, we’ll know what to do about the Pacific tides. Plus, escaping would be possible if we spotted the English or French coast, but near these Papuan shores, it's a different story."

"We'll deal with that if the Nautilus doesn’t recover itself, which I think is a serious problem."

"But do they at least know how to be careful? There’s an island. It has trees. Under those trees, land animals - you know, the kind that provide steaks and roast beef - which I’d love to try."

"Ned’s right about that," said Conseil, "and I agree. Couldn’t we ask Captain Nemo for permission to get on land, just so we don’t forget what it’s like to walk on solid ground?"

"I can ask him, but he’ll say no."

"Will the Captain risk it?" asked Conseil, "and we’ll see how friendly he really is."

To my surprise, Captain Nemo gave me the permission I asked for, and he gave it really easily, without even asking me to promise to come back to the ship. But escaping across New Guinea could be really dangerous, and I wouldn't have told Ned Land to try it.

It's better to be a prisoner on the Nautilus than to get caught by the locals.

At eight o’clock, armed with guns and hatchets, we left the Nautilus. The sea was pretty calm; a light breeze was blowing towards the land. Conseil and I rowed, and Ned steered us through the clear channel between the waves. The boat was moving fast and smoothly.

Ned Land couldn’t hide his excitement. He was like a prisoner who’s broken free, not realizing he had to go back in.

"Meat! We’re going to eat meat; and what meat!" he replied. " Real game! Not just bread, you know."

"I’m not saying fish isn’t good; we shouldn’t overdo it, but a piece of fresh venison, grilled over hot coals, would be a nice change from our usual food."

"Glutton!" said Conseil, "he’s making me hungry."

"Let’s see," I said, "if these forests are full of game, and if the game isn’t the kind that will hunt the hunter."

"Well said, M. Aronnax," replied the Canadian, whose teeth seemed as sharp as a hatchet; "but I’ll eat tiger - a tiger loin - if there’s nothing else on this island."

"Ned’s worried," said Conseil.

"Whatever it is," continued Ned Land, "every animal with four paws, furry or not, or with two paws, furry or not, will get my first shot."

"Okay, Master Land’s recklessness is starting."

"Don’t worry, M. Aronnax," replied the Canadian; "I won’t take twenty-five minutes to offer you a dish, my way."

At half-past eight, the Nautilus boat ran softly aground on a heavy sand, after successfully passing the coral reef surrounding the Island of Gilboa.