ing rapidly and
without anything in particular occurring, we sighted the Marquesas
group. I saw, three miles off, Martin's peak in Nouka-Hiva, the
largest of the group that belongs to France. I only saw the woody
mountains against the horizon, because Captain Nemo did not wish to
bring the ship to the wind. There the nets brought up beautiful
specimens of fish: some with azure fins and tails like gold, the flesh
of which is unrivalled; some nearly destitute of scales, but of
exquisite flavour; others, with bony jaws, and yellow-tinged gills, as
good as bonitos; all fish that would be of use to us. After leaving
these charming islands protected by the French flag, from the 4th to
the 11th of December the Nautilus sailed over about 2,000 miles.

During the daytime of the 11th of December I was busy reading in the
large drawing-room. Ned Land and Conseil watched the luminous water
through the half-open panels. The Nautilus was immovable. While its
reservoirs were filled, it kept at a depth of 1,000 yards, a region
rarely visited in the ocean, and in which large fish were seldom seen.

I was then reading a charming book by Jean Mace, The Slaves of the
Stomach, and I was learning some valuable lessons from it, when Conseil
interrupted me.

"Will master come here a moment?" he said, in a curious voice.

"What is the matter, Conseil?"

"I want master to look."

I rose, went, and leaned on my elbows before the panes and watched.

In a full electric light, an enormous black mass, quite immovable, was
suspended in the midst of the waters. I watched it attentively,
seeking to find out the nature of this gigantic cetacean. But a sudden
thought crossed my mind. "A vessel!" I said, half aloud.

"Yes," replied the Canadian, "a disabled ship that has sunk
perpendicularly."

Ned Land was right; we were close to a vessel of which the tattered
shrouds still hung from their chains. The keel seemed to be in good
order, and it had been wrecked at most some few hours. Three stumps of
masts, broken off about two feet above the bridge, showed that the
vessel had had to sacrifice its masts. But, lying on its side, it had
filled, and it was heeling over to port. This skeleton of what it had
once been was a sad spectacle as it lay lost under the waves, but
sadder still was the sight of the bridge, where some corpses, bound
with ropes, were still lying. I counted five--four men, one of whom
was standing at the helm, and a