Part 2 · Chapter 10The Submarine Coal‐mines

The next day, February twentieth, I woke up super late - the night before had totally wiped me out, and I slept until eleven. I threw on some clothes and rushed to see where the Nautilus was headed.

The instruments showed we were still heading south, moving at twenty miles an hour and about fifty fathoms deep.

The kinds of fish here weren't that different from what we'd already seen. There were giant rays, like five yards long, seriously strong, and could jump way out of the water.

We also saw sharks of all kinds - one was fifteen feet long, with pointy, triangular teeth, and so see-through it was almost invisible in the water.

Conseil spotted some bony fish about three yards long, with a sharp sword-like thing sticking out of their upper jaw. Then there were these bright-colored creatures, known as sea-dragons back in Aristotle’s time, and they're dangerous to catch because of the spikes on their backs.

Around four o’clock, the seabed - usually thick mud mixed with petrified wood - started changing. It got rockier, like it was covered in pebbles and chunks of basalt, with bits of lava scattered around. I figured we were moving into a mountainous area.

After a few turns, the Nautilus, I saw a huge wall blocking the southern horizon - it looked like it closed off any way out. The top of it was way above the ocean. It had to be a continent, or at least a big island - maybe one of the Canary Islands or the Cape Verde Islands.

We hadn’t taken any bearings yet, maybe on purpose, so I didn’t know exactly where we were. Either way, that wall felt like it marked the edge of that Atlantis we’d only explored a tiny part of.

I could’ve stayed at the window admiring the ocean and sky for way longer, but the panels closed. At that moment, the Nautilus reached the side of that tall, vertical wall. I had no idea what it was going to do. I went back to my room - it wasn’t moving.

I planned to wake up after a few hours, but it was eight o’clock the next day when I entered the saloon. I checked the pressure gauge - it showed the Nautilus was floating on the surface of the ocean. Plus, I heard footsteps on the platform.

I went to the panel, expecting bright daylight, but instead, I was surrounded by total darkness. Where were we? Was I wrong? Was it still night? No - not a single star was shining, and night doesn’t get that dark.

The Nautilus was floating near a mountain.

I wasn’t sure what to think when a voice said, "Is that you, Professor?"

"Ah! Captain," I replied, "where are we?" "Underground, sir."

"Underground!" I exclaimed. "And the Nautilus still floating?" "It always floats." "But I don’t understand."

"Wait a few minutes - our lantern will be lit, and if you like bright places, you’ll be satisfied."

I stood on the platform and waited. It was pitch black, so dark I couldn't even see Captain Nemo. But looking straight up, it felt like I caught a faint shimmer, like twilight spilling from a circular hole. Then the lantern flickered on, and its brightness washed out that faint light.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then looked again. The Nautilus was still, floating near a mountain that formed a kind of dock. The lake supporting it was trapped inside a circle of walls - two miles across and six miles around.

The water level (the gauge showed) was the same as the outside ocean level, because there had to be a way for the lake and sea to connect. The high walls leaned forward, curving into a vaulted roof shaped like a giant funnel flipped upside down, about five or six hundred yards high.

At the top was a circular opening, where I’d caught that tiny bit of daylight. "Where are we?" I asked.

"In the heart of an extinct volcano," he said. " The sea flooded it after some massive earthquake. While you were sleeping, Professor, the Nautilus slipped into this lagoon through a natural canal, about ten yards below the ocean’s surface."

"It’s our safe harbor - hidden, secure, and mysterious - sheltered from any storms. Show me, if you can, anywhere on your continents or islands, a place that offers such perfect protection from a storm."

"Definitely," I replied. "You’re safe here, Captain Nemo. Who could reach you inside a volcano? But didn't I see an opening at the top?"

"Yes; the crater, once filled with lava, steam, and flames, now lets in the fresh air we breathe."

"But what is this volcanic mountain?"

"It belongs to one of the many islands scattered across this sea - a tiny sandbar to ships - but a huge cavern to us. I stumbled upon it by chance, and luck was on my side."

"But what’s the point of this refuge, Captain? The Nautilus doesn’t need a port."

"No, sir; but it needs electricity to move, and a way to make that electricity - sodium to feed the elements, coal to get the sodium, and a coal mine to supply the coal."

"And right here, the sea covers entire forests that were buried during ancient times, now mineralized and turned into coal. It’s an endless mine for me."

"So your men are miners here, Captain?"

"Exactly. These mines stretch out under the waves, like the mines of Newcastle. Here, in their diving gear, with picks and shovels, my men extract the coal, which I don’t even take from mines on land."

"When I burn this fuel to make sodium, the smoke escaping from the crater makes the mountain look like a still-active volcano."

"Will we see your crew at work?"

"Not today, at least; I’m in a hurry to continue our underwater tour of the Earth. So I’ll just use the sodium I already have. Loading takes just one day, and then we’re off. If you want to explore the cavern and circle the lagoon, you need to take advantage of today, M. Aronnax."

I thanked the Captain and went to find my companions, who were still in their cabin. I invited them to follow me without telling them where we were. They came up to the platform.

Conseil, who never seemed surprised by anything, just seemed to accept it as normal to wake up under a mountain after falling asleep under the waves. But Ned Land was thinking only about finding a way out of the cavern. After breakfast, around ten o’clock, we headed down to the mountain.

"Here we are, back on land," said Conseil.

"I’m not calling this place land," said the Canadian. " And besides, we’re not on it, but under it."

Between the mountain walls and the lake water was a sandy beach, maybe five hundred feet wide at its widest point. You could totally walk around the whole lake on that sand. But the bottom of those huge walls was rocky, with volcanic blocks and giant pumice stones piled up in a cool way.

All those loose rocks, covered in shiny stuff and polished by underground heat, glowed in the light of our electric lantern. The mica dust from the beach, kicking up under our feet, looked like a cloud of sparks.

The ground started to rise noticeably, and we soon reached long, winding slopes - like big ramps - that took us higher. We had to be careful walking on them, though, because these rocks weren't held together, and our feet kept slipping on the glassy crystal, feldspar, and quartz.

The fact that this huge hole was a volcano was clear everywhere I looked, and I pointed it out to my friends.

"Imagine," I said, "what this crater must have been like when it was filled with boiling lava, and when the molten rock rose to the top of the mountain, like something melting on a hot plate."

"I can totally picture it," said Conseil.

"But, sir, can you explain why the Great Architect stopped working, and how the furnace turned into the quiet waters of the lake?"

"Most likely, Conseil, because some earthquake under the ocean made that very opening that the Nautilus used to get through. Then the Atlantic waters rushed into the inside of the mountain. There must have been a huge fight between the two - a fight that Neptune won."

"But tons of years have passed since then, and the underwater volcano is now a peaceful cave."

"Okay," replied Ned Land; "I buy that explanation, sir, but for our sake, I wish the opening you’re talking about was above sea level."

"But, friend Ned," said Conseil, "if the passage hadn’t been under the sea, the Nautilus couldn’t have gone through it."

We kept climbing. The stairs got steeper and narrower. Deep holes cut across them, and we had to work our way around big, slanted rocks. We slid on our knees and crawled along. But Conseil was super quick, and the Canadian was strong, so we got past everything.

About thirty-one feet up, the ground changed, but it didnn't get any easier to navigate. The rocky stuff and trachyte gave way to black basalt - the first spread in layers full of bubbles, the second forming neat, prism-shaped columns, like a giant arcade holding up the roof.

It was amazing natural architecture. Long-cold streams of lava twisted between the basalt blocks, covered in shiny, black deposits. And in places, huge patches of sulfur covered the ground.

A brighter light shone through the upper crater, casting a strange glow over these volcanic dips, buried forever inside this extinct mountain. But our climb stopped around two hundred and fifty feet up because it was totally blocked.

There was a huge arch hanging over us, and our ascent turned into a walk in a circle. Then, finally, life started to push through the rock. Some bushes, even some trees, sprouted from cracks in the walls.

I spotted some euphorbias, oozing a sticky, caustic sap; heliotropes, sadly drooping, their flowers faded and their scent almost gone. Here and there, shy chrysanthemums grew at the base of an aloe with long, sickly leaves.

But between the lava streams, I saw some tiny violets still faintly fragrant, and I breathed them in with pleasure. Scent is the soul of a flower, and ocean flowers have no soul.

We arrived at the foot of some tough dragon trees, which had forced their way through the rocks with their strong roots, when Ned Land yelled:

"Hey! sir, a beehive! a beehive!"

"A beehive?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, a beehive," repeated the Canadian, "and bees buzzing around it."

I got closer, and I had to believe my own eyes. There, in a hole bored in one of the dragon trees, were thousands of these smart insects, common on all the Canary Islands, and whose honey is so prized. Naturally, the Canadian wanted to collect the honey, and I couldn’t really stop him.

He gathered some dry leaves mixed with sulfur, sparked a flint, and started to smoke out the bees. The buzzing slowly stopped, and the hive eventually gave up several pounds of the sweetest honey, which Ned Land stuffed into his backpack.

"When I mix this honey with the paste from the artocarpus," he said, "I’ll be able to offer you a delicious cake."

"Seriously?" said Conseil, "it’s going to be gingerbread."

"Forget the gingerbread," I said; "let’s keep exploring."

Everywhere we turned on the path, the lake stretched out, super long and wide. The lantern lit up the whole calm surface - not a ripple or wave in sight. The Nautilus stayed totally still. Up on the platform and along the mountainside, the crew was working like dark shadows against the bright air.

We were going around the highest part of the first layers of rock that held up the roof. That’s when I realized bees weren’t the only animals living inside this volcano. Birds of prey were circling here and there in the shadows, or flying out of their nests on top of the rocks.

There were sparrow hawks with white chests, and kestrels, and several big, plump bustards were scrambling down the slopes on their long legs. I’ll let you imagine how the Canadian felt seeing all that delicious game, and if he wished he’d brought a gun.

But he tried his best to replace the lead with stones, and after a bunch of tries, he managed to hit a really beautiful bird. Saying he risked his life twenty times to get to it is the truth, but he did it so well that the bird ended up with his honey-cakes in the bag.

We needed to head down toward the shore now, because the top was too tricky to get around. Above us, the crater seemed to open up like the mouth of a deep well.

From there, we could see the sky, and clouds, scattered by the west wind, leaving behind wisps, even at the mountain’s peak - proof they weren’t super high up, because the volcano didn’t rise more than eight hundred feet above the ocean.

About half an hour after the Canadian’s last hunt, we were back on the inner shore. Here, the plants were like huge carpets of sea crystals, and there was a little plant that looked like parsley - really good for pickling. It’s also called pierce-stone and sea-fennel.

Conseil gathered some bunches of it. As for the animals, there were thousands of crustaceans of all kinds: lobsters, crabs, spider-crabs, chameleon shrimp, and tons of shells, rockfish, and limpets. Three-quarters of an hour later, we’d finished our walk and were back on board.

The crew had just finished loading the sodium, and the Nautilus could have left right away. But Captain Nemo gave no orders. Was he waiting for night, and leaving the underwater passage secretly? Maybe.

Whatever the reason, the next day, the Nautilus, having left its port, steered clear of all land, just a few yards below the waves of the Atlantic.