Part 1 · Chapter 23The Coral Kingdom

The next morning, I woke up feeling surprisingly clearheaded. To my surprise, I was back in my own room. My friends must have been put back in their cabins without even realizing it. They were as clueless about what happened during the night as I was, so I figured I’d just have to wait and see.

I decided to leave my room. Was I free, or still a prisoner? Definitely free. I opened the door, headed to the half-deck, and climbed the central stairs. The panels that had been closed the night before were now open. I stepped out onto the platform.

Ned Land and Conseil were waiting for me there. I asked them what they knew, but they were totally in the dark. They’d been out like lights, completely unconscious, and were shocked to find themselves back in their cabins.

The Nautilus seemed as quiet and mysterious as ever. It was floating on the surface, moving at a steady pace. Nothing seemed different onboard.

Then, the second lieutenant came onto the platform and gave the usual orders to the crew.

But Captain Nemo was nowhere to be seen.

The only other person I saw was the stoic steward, who served me with his usual silent efficiency.

Around two o'clock, I was in the drawing-room, organizing my notes, when the Captain suddenly appeared. I bowed. He gave a small nod in return, without saying a word. I went back to my work, hoping he'd finally give me some explanation for what happened the night before. He didn’t. I looked at him.

He looked exhausted; his eyes were bloodshot and tired, and his face looked really sad. He paced around, sat down and got up again, picked up a book and put it down, checked his instruments without taking notes - he seemed restless and anxious. Finally, he came up to me and asked:

"Are you a doctor, M. Aronnax?"

I was so taken by surprise that I just stared at him for a moment, speechless.

"Are you a doctor?" he repeated.

"Several of your colleagues have studied medicine."

"Well," I said, "I am a doctor and resident surgeon at the hospital. I practiced for several years before joining the museum." "Very well, sir."

My answer seemed to satisfy him. But, not knowing what he's going to say next, I waited for more questions, holding back my answers until I knew what to expect.

"M. Aronnax, will you consent to prescribe for one of my men?" he asked. "Is he ill?" "Yes." "I’d be glad to." "Then come."

My heart started pounding, I don't know why. I had a feeling that the crewman’s illness was connected to what happened the night before, and that mystery was just as interesting to me as the sick man himself.

Captain Nemo led me to the back of the Nautilus and into a cabin near the sailors’ quarters.

There, lying on a bed, was a man around forty years old, with a determined look on his face - a true Anglo-Saxon type.

I leaned over him. He wasn't just ill; he was wounded. His head was wrapped in bloody bandages on a pillow. I carefully unwrapped them, and the wounded man looked at me with his big eyes, showing no sign of pain as I did it. It was a terrible wound.

A deadly weapon had shattered his skull, exposing his brain, which was badly injured. Clots of blood had formed in the bruised and broken mass, looking like the dregs of wine.

There was bruising and swelling of the brain. His breathing was slow, and his face twitched with spasms. I felt his pulse. It was weak and irregular. His hands and feet were already cold, and I knew he was close to death. After dressing his wounds, I rewrapped his head, and turned to Captain Nemo.

"What caused this wound?" I asked.

"What’s the big deal?" he replied, dodging the question.

"Something broke in the engine, and it clipped me. But what do you think about his condition?" I paused before answering.

"Go ahead," said the Captain. "He doesn’t speak French."

I took one last look at the injured guy.

"He’s gonna be dead in two hours," I said. "Can’t anything save him?" "Nothing."

Captain Nemo’s hand clenched, and I saw tears welling up in his eyes - I honestly thought he wasn’t capable of crying.

For a few moments, I kept watching the man fade away. He got paler and paler under the bright electric lights above his bed. I looked at his smart forehead, all creased with worry lines, probably from bad luck and sadness. I tried to figure out the story of his life from the last words he mumbled.

"You can go now, M. Aronnax," the Captain said.

I left him in the guy’s cabin and headed back to my room, totally shaken by what I’s seen. All day, I felt uneasy, and I slept terribly that night. Between my weird dreams, I thought I heard faint sighs, like a sad song. Were they prayers from the dead, whispered in a language I couldn't understand?

The next morning, I went up to the bridge. Captain Nemo was already there. As soon as he saw me, he came over.

"Professor, would you be up for a submarine trip today?" "With my friends?" I asked. "If they’re interested." "We’re your guys, Captain."

"Then, can you grab your cork jackets?"

This wasn’t about life or death. I found Ned Land and Conseil and told them about Captain Nemo’s offer. Conseil was totally in, and this time, even the Canadian seemed pretty eager to join.

It was eight in the morning. By eight-thirty, we were all geared up for this new adventure, with special lights and breathing gear. The double doors were open, and, along with Captain Nemo and a dozen of his crew, we stepped onto the seabed, about thirty feet down, where the Nautilus was resting.

The ground sloped down to a bumpy bottom, about fifteen fathoms deep. It was nothing like the seabed I’d seen during my first trip under the Pacific. There was no fine sand, no underwater meadows, no seaweed forests.

I instantly recognized where we were - the coral kingdom, where the Captain had shown us around before.

The lights created a thousand amazing colors, dancing among the branches that were so vibrantly colored. I could see the membrane-like tubes trembling in the water. I wanted to pick their fresh petals, decorated with delicate tentacles - some were fully open, others still budding.

A little fish zipped past, touching them lightly, like a flock of birds. But the moment I reached for them, the whole colony panicked. The white petals retreated into their red cases, the flowers faded as I watched, and the bush turned into a block of stony knobs.

By chance, I ended up right next to the most valuable coral specimens. This coral was worth more than anything found in the Mediterranean, along the coasts of France, Italy, and North Africa.

Its colors justified the poetic names "Flower of Blood" and "Froth of Blood" that traders used for its best pieces. Coral sells for about twenty pounds an ounce, and the seabed here would make a coral-diving company rich beyond belief.

This precious material, often mistaken for other coral, formed the intricate patterns called "macciota," and I spotted several beautiful pieces of pink coral there.

Soon the bushes closed in, and the trees grew denser. We saw incredible rock formations - like a bizarre, mineral forest, all twisted into strange shapes. Captain Nemo ducked under a dark overhang, and a gentle slope led us down about a hundred yards.

Our lamps created some seriously cool effects, highlighting the rough curves of the natural arches and hanging formations, like glowing chandeliers.

After two hours of walking, we’d reached a depth of about three hundred yards - about as deep as coral can start to grow. But there weren't any small bushes or shrubs at the bottom of the giant trees.

Instead, it was a massive forest of huge, mineral plants, like enormous petrified trees, all linked by elegant, twisting vines, shimmering with reflections. We walked freely under their tall branches, lost in the shade of the waves.

Captain Nemo stopped. I and my friends paused, and I noticed his crew forming a semi-circle around him. I watched closely and saw four of them carrying something long and rectangular on their shoulders.

We were in the center of a huge clearing, surrounded by the towering trees of the underwater forest. Our lamps cast a sort of hazy twilight, making the shadows stretch out long and distorted. At the end of the clearing, it got really dark, only broken up by little sparkles reflecting off the coral.

Ned Land and Conseil were near me. We watched, and I felt like I was about to see something really weird. Looking at the ground, I noticed it was raised in places by little bumps covered in a white, rocky deposit, arranged in a way that looked like it was made by human hands.

In the middle of the clearing, on a rough pile of rocks, stood a coral cross, its long arms looking like they were made of hardened blood. At a signal from Captain Nemo, one of the men stepped forward and started digging a hole with a pickaxe he pulled from his belt. It all clicked!

This clearing was a cemetery, this hole a grave, and that long object the body of someone who had died during the night! The Captain and his men had come to bury their friend in this secluded ocean resting place.

They were digging the grave slowly; fish scattered as their retreat was disturbed. I could hear the pickaxe striking the ground, sending sparks flying when it hit a piece of flint lost at the bottom of the water. The hole was soon big and deep enough to hold the body.

Then the bearers approached; the body, wrapped in a white cloth, was lowered into the damp grave. Captain Nemo, with his arms crossed, and all the friends who had loved him, knelt in prayer. Everyone knelt in prayer.

The grave was filled in with the dirt they’d dug up, creating a small mound. When that was done, Captain Nemo and his men stood up. Then, approaching the grave, they knelt again, and everyone stretched out their hands in a final goodbye.

Finally, the funeral procession returned to the Nautilus, passing under the arches of the forest, through thickets, and along the coral bushes, still climbing upwards. At last, the light of the ship appeared, and its bright path guided us back to the Nautilus. We’d arrived back by one o’clock.

As soon as I’d changed my clothes, I went up to the platform and sat down near the steering wheel, feeling a mix of emotions. Captain Nemo joined me. I stood up and said to him:

"So, like he said, this man died during the night?" "Yes, M. Aronnax."

"And he’s resting now, with his friends, in the coral cemetery?"

Yeah, totally forgotten by everyone else, but not by us. We dug the grave, and the polypi will make sure our dead are sealed away forever.

And, burying his face in his hands, he tried to stop himself from crying. Then he added, Our quiet cemetery is down there, about a hundred feet below the waves.

"Your dead are resting easy, at least, Captain, safe from sharks."

"Yeah, sir, safe from sharks and people," the Captain said seriously.