e steel spur. I heard
rattlings and scrapings. But the Nautilus, carried along by its
propelling power, passed through the mass of the vessel like a needle
through sailcloth!

I could stand it no longer. Mad, out of my mind, I rushed from my room
into the saloon. Captain Nemo was there, mute, gloomy, implacable; he
was looking through the port panel. A large mass cast a shadow on the
water; and, that it might lose nothing of her agony, the Nautilus was
going down into the abyss with her. Ten yards from me I saw the open
shell, through which the water was rushing with the noise of thunder,
then the double line of guns and the netting. The bridge was covered
with black, agitated shadows.

The water was rising. The poor creatures were crowding the ratlines,
clinging to the masts, struggling under the water. It was a human
ant-heap overtaken by the sea. Paralysed, stiffened with anguish, my
hair standing on end, with eyes wide open, panting, without breath, and
without voice, I too was watching! An irresistible attraction glued me
to the glass! Suddenly an explosion took place. The compressed air
blew up her decks, as if the magazines had caught fire. Then the
unfortunate vessel sank more rapidly. Her topmast, laden with victims,
now appeared; then her spars, bending under the weight of men; and,
last of all, the top of her mainmast. Then the dark mass disappeared,
and with it the dead crew, drawn down by the strong eddy.

I turned to Captain Nemo. That terrible avenger, a perfect archangel
of hatred, was still looking. When all was over, he turned to his
room, opened the door, and entered. I followed him with my eyes. On
the end wall beneath his heroes, I saw the portrait of a woman, still
young, and two little children. Captain Nemo looked at them for some
moments, stretched his arms towards them, and, kneeling down, burst
into deep sobs.

CHAPTER XXII

THE LAST WORDS OF CAPTAIN NEMO

The panels had closed on this dreadful vision, but light had not
returned to the saloon: all was silence and darkness within the
Nautilus. At wonderful speed, a hundred feet beneath the water, it was
leaving this desolate spot. Whither was it going? To the north or
south? Where was the man flying to after such dreadful retaliation? I
had returned to my room, where Ned and Conseil had remained silent
enough. I felt an insurmountable horror for Captain Nemo. Whatever he
had suffered at the hands of thes