On January 29 Ceylon disappeared behind us, and the Nautilus headed north toward the Sea of Oman, between Arabia and India.
“Where are we going, Professor?” asked Ned.
“Wherever the captain likes.”
“Then he won’t take us far. The Persian Gulf has no way out, and neither has the Red Sea, because they haven’t cut through at Suez yet. And the Red Sea isn’t the way back to Europe.”
“I never said we were going back to Europe. I think the Nautilus will go around the Cape of Good Hope into the Atlantic.”
“And once we’re at the Cape?” asked Ned, and I knew what he was thinking.
“Ah, Ned, you are tired of this voyage. I shall be sorry to see the end of it. So few men have ever had such a chance.”
To my surprise, the Nautilus did not turn back. On February 7 it passed through the narrow strait into the Red Sea, staying deep below the many steamers. I did not try to understand why the captain had chosen this closed sea, but I was glad he had. The ship moved slowly now, and I spent wonderful hours at the salon window, watching bushes of brilliant coral and rocks covered in green weed pass in the light of our lamp.
On February 9, at noon, Captain Nemo joined me on the platform and offered me a cigar.
“Well, Professor, do you like the Red Sea?”
“Very much, Captain. And the Nautilus is perfect for such a study. It is an intelligent ship! It must be a hundred years ahead of its time. What a pity that the secret of such an invention will die with its inventor!”
Captain Nemo did not answer. After a silence we spoke of other things, among them the canal that Mr. de Lesseps was digging across the isthmus of Suez.
“A canal that would be of no use to the Nautilus,” I said.
“Perhaps not, but it will be useful to the whole world. You have the right to be proud of your countryman, Professor. Such a man brings more honor to a nation than great generals. All honor to Mr. de Lesseps!” Then he went on: “Unfortunately, I cannot take you through his canal. But the day after tomorrow you will see Port Said, when we are in the Mediterranean.”
“The Mediterranean!” I cried. “The day after tomorrow? You would have to travel incredibly fast to go all the way around Africa in two days!”
“And who told you that we would go around Africa?”
“Well, unless the Nautilus can sail over dry land…”
“Or under it, Professor Aronnax.”
“Under it?”
“Certainly,” said Captain Nemo calmly. “Long ago nature made under this strip of land what men are making today on its surface. There is a passage under the isthmus. I call it the Arabian Tunnel.”
“Did you discover it by chance?”
“More by reasoning than by chance. I noticed that some kinds of fish in the Red Sea and in the Mediterranean were exactly the same. So I caught many fish near Suez, put a copper ring around their tails and threw them back. A few months later, off the coast of Syria, I caught some of my fish with their rings. Then I searched with the Nautilus and found the passage. Soon, Professor, you too will have passed through my Arabian Tunnel!”
The next day, February 10, the Nautilus was on the surface at noon when Ned pointed at the sea. A long black body lay on the water, like a sandbank. It was a giant dugong. Ned’s eyes shone, and his hand seemed ready to throw a harpoon. At that moment Captain Nemo appeared and understood at once.
“Does your hand not itch for your harpoon, Mr. Land?”
“It does, Captain.”
“Then you may try. Only I advise you not to miss it. The dugong sometimes turns on its hunters and overturns their boat.”
Six silent sailors rowed the boat, with Ned at the front and Conseil and me at the back. When we were six meters from the dugong, Ned threw his harpoon, but the animal dived with a hiss.
“Curse it! I missed!”
“No, there is blood,” I said. “But your harpoon did not stick.”
We chased it for an hour while Ned shouted every English swear word he knew. Then suddenly the dugong turned and threw itself at us. The boat half turned over and took in a great deal of water; the animal sank its tusks into the side and lifted the whole boat out of the sea, and we fell on top of each other. I do not know how it would have ended if Ned had not struck it again and again until his harpoon reached its heart. It took ropes and pulleys to lift it onto the platform.
On the evening of February 11 we came near Suez. Through the fog I saw a pale light.
“The floating lighthouse of Suez,” said a voice beside me. It was the captain. “Entering the tunnel is not easy, so I always guide the ship myself. Come with me, Professor.”
He took me into the pilot’s cabin at the front of the platform, a small dark room with a large wheel and thick windows on every side. A strong sailor stood at the wheel, and outside our lamp lit up the sea. The Nautilus dived. For an hour we moved slowly along a high wall of rock, and at every sign from the captain the pilot changed course.
At a quarter past ten Captain Nemo took the wheel himself. A wide black tunnel opened in front of us, and the Nautilus went boldly into it. A strange roar rose around the hull: the water of the Red Sea was rushing down the slope of the tunnel toward the Mediterranean, and the Nautilus flew along with it as fast as an arrow, although the engine turned the propeller backward to slow us down. On the narrow walls I saw only bright lines and streaks of fire, drawn by our speed in the electric light. My heart was beating fast.
At twenty-five to eleven the captain left the wheel and turned to me.
“The Mediterranean!” he said.
In less than twenty minutes, carried along by the current, the Nautilus had passed under the isthmus of Suez.