But your opinion as to his state?"

I hesitated before giving it.

"You may speak," said the Captain. "This man does not understand French."

I gave a last look at the wounded man.

"He will be dead in two hours."

"Can nothing save him?"

"Nothing."

Captain Nemo's hand contracted, and some tears glistened in his eyes,
which I thought incapable of shedding any.

For some moments I still watched the dying man, whose life ebbed slowly.
His pallor increased under the electric light that was shed over
his death-bed. I looked at his intelligent forehead, furrowed with
premature wrinkles, produced probably by misfortune and sorrow.
I tried to learn the secret of his life from the last words that
escaped his lips.

"You can go now, M. Aronnax," said the Captain.

I left him in the dying man's cabin, and returned to my
room much affected by this scene. During the whole day,
I was haunted by uncomfortable suspicions, and at night
I slept badly, and between my broken dreams I fancied I
heard distant sighs like the notes of a funeral psalm.
Were they the prayers of the dead, murmured in that language
that I could not understand?

The next morning I went on to the bridge. Captain Nemo was there before me.
As soon as he perceived me he came to me.

"Professor, will it be convenient to you to make a submarine excursion to-day?"

"With my companions?" I asked.

"If they like."

"We obey your orders, Captain."

"Will you be so good then as to put on your cork jackets?"

It was not a question of dead or dying. I rejoined Ned Land
and Conseil, and told them of Captain Nemo's proposition.
Conseil hastened to accept it, and this time the Canadian seemed
quite willing to follow our example.

It was eight o'clock in the morning. At half-past eight we were equipped
for this new excursion, and provided with two contrivances for light
and breathing. The double door was open; and, accompanied by Captain Nemo,
who was followed by a dozen of the crew, we set foot, at a depth of about
thirty feet, on the solid bottom on which the Nautilus rested.

A slight declivity ended in an uneven bottom, at fifteen fathoms depth.
This bottom differed entirely from the one I had visited on my first excursion
under the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Here, there was no fine sand,
no submarine prairies, no sea-forest. I immediately recognised that
marvellous region in which, on that day, the Captain did the honours to us.
It was the coral kingdom.

The light produced a thousand charming varieties, playing in
the midst of the branches that were so vividly coloured.
I seemed to see the membraneous and cylindrical tubes tremble
beneath the undulation of the waters. I was tempted to gather
their fresh petals, ornamented with delicate tentacles,
some just blown, the others budding, while a small fish,
swimming swiftly, touched them slightly, like flights of birds.
But if my hand approached these living flowers, these animated,
sensitive plants, the whole colony took alarm. The white petals
re-entered their red cases, the flowers faded as I looked,
and the bush changed into a block of stony knobs.

Chance had thrown me just by the most precious specimens of the zoophyte.
This coral was more valuable than that found in the Mediterranean,
on the coasts of France, Italy and Barbary. Its tints justified
the poetical names of "Flower of Blood," and "Froth of Blood,"
that trade has given to its most beautiful productions.
Coral is sold for L20 per ounce; and in this place the watery beds would
make the fortunes of a company of coral-divers. This precious matter,
often confused with other polypi, formed then the inextricable plots
called "macciota," and on which I noticed several beautiful specimens
of pink coral.

But soon the bushes contract, and the arborisations increase. Real
petrified thickets, long joints of fantastic architecture, were
disclosed before us. Captain Nemo placed himself under a dark gallery,
where by a slight declivity we reached a depth of a hundred yards. The
light from our lamps produced sometimes magical effects, following the
rough outlines of the natural arches and pendants disposed like lustres,
that were tipped with points of fire.

At last, after walking two hours, we had attained a depth
of about three hundred yards, that is to say, the extreme limit
on which coral begins to form. But there was no isolated bush,
nor modest brushwood, at the bottom of lofty trees.


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