Part 2 · Chapter 15Accident or Incident?

The next morning, March twenty-second, we started getting ready to leave around six. The last bit of twilight was fading into night. It was freezing - the stars were incredibly bright. Right above us, the Southern Cross, like a giant polar bear of the Antarctic, was sparkling.

The thermometer read twelve degrees below zero, and the wind was brutal. Ice was building up on the open water. The sea looked the same everywhere. Dark patches were spreading across the surface, showing new ice forming. It was clear the southern area, frozen for six long winters, was totally cut off.

What happened to the whales during that time? They probably went under the icebergs, searching for better waters. As for the seals and walruses, used to the harsh climate, they stayed on these icy shores. They have an instinct to break holes in the ice and keep them open.

They come up for air; when the birds flew north to escape the cold, these sea mammals were the only ones in charge of the polar continent. But the tanks were filling with water, and the Nautilus was slowly sinking. It stopped at one,zero feet deep.

The propeller churned the water, and we sped north at fifteen miles an hour. By nightfall, we were floating beneath the massive iceberg. Around three in the morning, I woke up with a huge jolt. I sat up in bed and listened in the dark, but then I was thrown across the room.

The Nautilus had slammed into something and bounced back hard. I felt around the wall, heading down the stairs to the main room, which was lit by the glowing ceiling. Everything was overturned. Luckily, the windows were secure and held tight.

The pictures on the right side were stuck to the wall at an angle, while the ones on the left were hanging a foot away. The Nautilus was tilted over on its right side, completely still. I heard footsteps and a bunch of voices, but Captain Nemo was nowhere to be seen.

As I was leaving the main room, Ned Land and Conseil walked in.

"What happened?" I asked right away.

"I came to ask you, sir," replied Conseil.

"Seriously?" exclaimed the Canadian.

"I know what’s up! The Nautilus ran into something, and judging by the way she’s sitting, I don't think she’s going to right herself like she did in the Torres Straits."

"But," I asked, "did she at least surface?"

"We donn't know," said Conseil.

"It’s easy to check," I answered.

I looked at the pressure gauge. To my surprise, it showed we were more than one hundred and eighty fathoms down. " What does that mean?" I exclaimed.

"We need to ask Captain Nemo," said Conseil.

"But where is he?" said Ned Land.

"Follow me," I said to my companions.

We left the main room. No one was in the library. At the central staircase, near the crew’s quarters, no one was around. I figured Captain Nemo must be in the pilot room. It was best to wait. We all went back to the main room.

For twenty minutes, we stood there, trying to hear any noise from the Nautilus, when Captain Nemo walked in. He didn’t seem to notice us; his face, usually so calm, showed he was worried.

He watched the compass, then the pressure gauge; and then he went to the map, putting his finger on a spot representing the southern seas. I didn’t want to interrupt him, but a few minutes later, when he turned to me, I used one of his own phrases from the Torres Straits: "An incident, Captain?"

"No, sir; an accident this time." "Serious?" "Maybe." "Is the danger immediate?" "Not really."

"Did the Nautilus run aground?" "Yeah." "And this happened - how?"

"It’s just a weird twist of fate, not a human error. Nothing went wrong with the build. But we cann't fight the laws of nature."

Captain Nemo chose a seriously strange time to drop that philosophical thought. Honestly, his answer didn’t help me much.

"Sir, could you tell me what caused this accident?"

"A massive block of ice, like a whole mountain, flipped over," he replied.

"When icebergs get weakened at the bottom by warmer water or repeated impacts, their center of balance shifts upwards, and they turn over."

"That's what happened; one of these blocks, as it fell, smacked into the Nautilus, then slid under its hull, lifting it up with unbelievable force and dropping it into shallower water where it’s resting on its side."

"But can’t we get the Nautilus upright by emptying the ballast tanks, so it can regain its balance?"

"That’s exactly what we’re doing right now. You can hear the pumps working. Look at the pressure gauge; it shows the Nautilus is rising, but the block of ice is floating with it. Until something stops its upward climb, our situation won't change."

The Nautilus was still stuck on the same side, but it would probably right itself once the block stopped. Still, I was seriously worried we might get crushed between those two icy walls. Captain Nemo never took his eyes off the pressure gauge.

Since the iceberg fell, the Nautilus had risen about a hundred and fifty feet, but it still made the same angle with the vertical. Suddenly, a slight shift was felt in the lower levels. Clearly, it was starting to straighten out. Things hanging in the main room were settling back into place.

The walls were getting closer to being upright. No one spoke. With pounding hearts, we watched and felt the ship righting itself. The floor became level beneath our feet. Ten minutes passed.

"We’re upright at last!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah," said Captain Nemo, heading for the door of the main room.

"But are we floating?" I asked.

"Of course," he replied; "as long as the ballast tanks aren’t completely empty; and if they are, the Nautilus will surface."

We were in open water, but about ten yards on either side of the Nautilus, rose a dazzling wall of ice. Above and below - the same wall. Above, because the lower surface of the iceberg stretched over us like an enormous ceiling.

Below, because the overturned block, having slid bit by bit, had settled against the side walls, holding it in place. The Nautilus was really trapped in a perfect tunnel of ice, more than twenty yards wide, filled with still water.

It was easy to get out of it by going forward or backward, and then make a clear path under the iceberg, hundreds of yards deeper. The ceiling had gone dark, but the main room was still glowing with intense light.

It was the powerful reflection from the glass partition bouncing back to the lantern’s panels.

I can’t even describe the effect of the electric rays on those blocks, carved so randomly; every angle, every ridge, every facet was lit differently, depending on the veins running through the ice; a dazzling mine of jewels, especially sapphires, their blue rays mixing with the green of emeralds.

There were opal shades of incredible softness, running through bright spots like diamonds of fire, their brilliance almost too much to bear. The lantern seemed a hundred times brighter, like a lamp through the lenses of a top-of-the-line lighthouse.

"Wow! This is incredible!" cried Conseil.

"Yeah," I said, "it’s an amazing sight. Isn’t it, Ned?"

"Seriously? Yes!" answered Ned Land. " It’s incredible! I hate to admit it, but no one’s ever seen anything like it. But this sight might cost us dearly. And honestly, I think we’re seeing things here that weren't meant for human eyes."

Ned was right, it was breathtaking. Suddenly, a shout from Conseil made me turn. "What’s wrong?" I asked.

"Close your eyes, sir! Don’t look, sir!" Conseil clapped his hands over his eyes.

"But what’s the problem, my boy?"

"I’m totally blinded, overwhelmed."

My eyes drifted toward the glass, but I couldn’t stand the intense light that seemed to burn them. I realized what was happening. The Nautilus was going full speed. The gentle glow of the ice walls suddenly turned into flashes of lightning. The light from all those diamonds was blinding.

It took a while to calm down. Finally, the hands were lowered.

"Wow, I never would have believed it," said Conseil.

It was five in the morning, and a jolt shook the bow of the Nautilus. I knew its fin had hit a block of ice. It must have been a miscalculation; navigating this submarine tunnel, blocked by ice, was tricky.

I figured Captain Nemo would either steer around the obstacles or follow the tunnel’s twists and turns. Either way, the path ahead shouldn't be completely blocked. But, to my surprise, the Nautilus started moving backward.

"We’re going backward?" asked Conseil.

"Yeah," I replied. "There’s no way out at this end of the tunnel." "So then?"

"Then," I said, "we need to go back and exit through the southern opening. That’s all there is to it."

I said it to sound more confident than I felt. But the Nautilus’s backward motion was picking up speed, and reversing the propeller, it carried us quickly.

"This is going to slow us down," said Ned.

"What does it matter, a few more or less hours, as long as we get out eventually?"

"Yeah," repeated Ned Land, "as long as we get out eventually!"

I walked from the lounge to the library for a bit. My companions were quiet. Soon, I collapsed on an ottoman and started flipping through a book, not really paying attention. A quarter of an hour later, Conseil approached me and asked, "Is what you’re reading really interesting, sir?"

"Super interesting!" I replied.

"I’m sure it is, sir. It’s your own book you’re reading." "My book?"

And sure enough, I was holding a copy of The Great Submarine Depths. I hadn’t even realized it. I closed the book and went back to pacing. Ned and Conseil got up to leave.

"Stay here, guys," I said, stopping them.

"Let’s hang out together until we’re out of this mess."

"Sounds good, sir," Conseil replied.

Hours passed. I kept glancing at the instruments on the wall. The pressure gauge showed the Nautilus maintained a depth of over three hundred yards; the compass still pointed south; the log indicated a speed of twenty miles an hour, which was really fast in such a small space.

But Captain Nemo knew he couldn’t rush things, and that every minute counted. At twenty-five minutes past eight, another jolt rocked the Nautilus, this time from behind. I went pale. My companions were right beside me. I grabbed Conseil’s hand. Our expressions said more than words could.

At that moment, the Captain entered the lounge. I approached him.

"Our path is blocked southward?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. The iceberg has shifted and closed every exit." "We’re trapped then?" "Yes."