Part 2 · Chapter 7The Mediterranean in Forty‐eight Hours

The Mediterranean - the ultimate blue sea, really - the "great sea" the Hebrews talked about, "the sea" the Greeks called it, the "mare nostrum" the Romans used; surrounded by orange trees, aloe plants, cacti, and pine trees.

It smelled amazing with the myrtle, was ringed by rough mountains, and had super clear, clean air, but there were always these intense underground forces at play. It was like a constant battleground where Neptune and Pluto were still fighting for control of the world!

It’s on these shores and waters, as Michelet said, that people are renewed in one of the warmest spots on Earth. But as beautiful as it was, I could only take a quick look at this huge area - it's like two million square yards!

Even Captain Nemo’s knowledge couldnn't help me, because he didn’t show up at all during our crazy-fast trip. I guessed the Nautilus was traveling around six hundred leagues under the waves, and we did it in just forty-eight hours.

We left the coast of Greece on the morning of February sixteenth and crossed the Straits of Gibraltar by sunrise on the eighteenth.

It was obvious that this Mediterranean, trapped between the countries Captain Nemo wanted to avoid, wasn’t his favorite place. Those waves and breezes probably brought back too many memories, if not full-on regrets.

He didn’t have the freedom he liked out in the open ocean, and the Nautilus felt cramped between the close shores of Africa and Europe.

Our speed was now twenty-five miles an hour. It’s safe to say Ned Land totally gave up on his plan to escape. He couldn’t launch the pinnace, going so fast - twelve or thirteen yards every second.

Trying to leave the Nautilus under those conditions would be like jumping off a speeding train - seriously reckless. Plus, our vessel only surfaced at night to get fresh air; it was steered completely by the compass and the log.

I didn't see much of the inside of the Mediterranean - it was like looking out the window of a super-fast train; just the distant horizon, and everything else just blurred past.

We were passing between Sicily and the coast of Tunis. The seafloor suddenly rose up in the narrow space between Cape Bon and the Straits of Messina. There was this huge bank, only nine fathoms of water, while on either side it was ninety fathoms deep.

The Nautilus had to maneuver carefully to avoid hitting this underwater barrier.

I showed Conseil on the map of the Mediterranean exactly where this reef was.

"If you don’t mind me saying, sir," Conseil pointed out, "it’s like a real isthmus, joining Europe to Africa."

"Yeah, my boy, it’s a perfect bar to the Straits of Lybia, and Smith’s measurements have proven that, back in the past, the continents between Cape Boco and Cape Furina were connected."

"I can totally see that," said Conseil.

"And I’ll add," I continued, "that a similar barrier exists between Gibraltar and Ceuta, which, way back when, formed the entire Mediterranean."

"What if some volcano suddenly erupted and raised those two barriers above the water?" "That’s not likely, Conseil."

"Well, let me finish, please, sir; if that happened, it’s going to be a huge problem for M. Lesseps, who has put so much work into piercing the isthmus."

"I totally get where you’re coming from; but seriously, Conseil, this isn’t gonna happen. The power from deep underground is getting weaker and weaker. Volcanoes, which were everywhere when the world was new, are dying out little by little."

"The heat inside is fading, and the temperature way down below is dropping a noticeable amount every hundred years - which isn't great for our planet, because heat is what keeps it alive." "But what about the sun?"

"The sun isn’t enough, Conseil. Can it warm up a dead body?" "Not that I know of."

"Well, my friend, one day this earth will be that cold corpse; it’s gonna become uninhabitable and empty like the moon, which lost all its warmth a long time ago."

"How many centuries are we talking?"

"A few hundred thousand years, kiddo."

"Then," said Conseil, "we’ve got time to finish our journey - that is, if Ned Land doesn’t mess things up."

And Conseil, feeling better, went back to checking out the shoreline, which the Nautilus was gliding past at a steady pace.

During the night of February sixteenth and seventeenth, we’d entered the second part of the Mediterranean Sea. The deepest point was about one,four hundred and fifty fathoms. The Nautilus, using its propeller, slid down the slopes and sank into the deepest parts of the ocean.

On February eighteenth, around three in the morning, we were at the entrance to the Straits of Gibraltar. There used to be two currents: an upper one, which everyone knows about, that carries ocean water into the Mediterranean; and a lower current, which scientists have now confirmed exists.

The amount of water in the Mediterranean, constantly added to by waves from the Atlantic and rivers flowing into it, would raise the sea level each year - because not enough water evaporates to balance it out.

But that’s not happening, so there has to be an undercurrent that empties the extra water from the Mediterranean into the Atlantic through the Straits of Gibraltar. It’s a fact, and the Nautilus was using it to its advantage. It zipped through the narrow passage.

For a second, I caught a glimpse of the beautiful ruins of the temple of Hercules, buried underground, according to Pliny, and the small island that holds it up; and a few minutes later, we were floating on the Atlantic.