which is born and cemented amidst extreme dangers. Ah, brave Ned!
I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more
time to dwell the longer on your memory.

Now, what was Ned Land's opinion upon the question of the marine monster?
I must admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was
the only one on board who did not share that universal conviction.
He even avoided the subject, which I one day thought it my duty
to press upon him. One magnificent evening, the 30th July (that is
to say, three weeks after our departure), the frigate was abreast
of Cape Blanc, thirty miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia.
We had crossed the tropic of Capricorn, and the Straits of Magellan
opened less than seven hundred miles to the south. Before eight
days were over the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing the waters
of the Pacific.

Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were chatting of one thing
and another as we looked at this mysterious sea, whose great
depths had up to this time been inaccessible to the eye of man.
I naturally led up the conversation to the giant unicorn, and examined
the various chances of success or failure of the expedition.
But, seeing that Ned Land let me speak without saying too much himself,
I pressed him more closely.

"Well, Ned," said I, "is it possible that you are not convinced
of the existence of this cetacean that we are following?
Have you any particular reason for being so incredulous?"

The harpooner looked at me fixedly for some moments
before answering, struck his broad forehead with his hand
(a habit of his), as if to collect himself, and said at last,
"Perhaps I have, Mr. Aronnax."

"But, Ned, you, a whaler by profession, familiarised with all
the great marine mammalia--YOU ought to be the last to doubt
under such circumstances!"

"That is just what deceives you, Professor," replied Ned.
"As a whaler I have followed many a cetacean, harpooned a great number,
and killed several; but, however strong or well-armed they may
have been, neither their tails nor their weapons would have been
able even to scratch the iron plates of a steamer."

"But, Ned, they tell of ships which the teeth of the narwhal
have pierced through and through."

"Wooden ships--that is possible," replied the Canadian,
"but I have never seen it done; and, until further proof,
I deny that whales, cetaceans, or sea-unicorns could ever produce
the effect you describe."

"Well, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction resting on the logic of facts.
I believe in the existence of a mammal power fully organised, belonging to
the branch of vertebrata, like the whales, the cachalots, or the dolphins,
and furnished with a horn of defence of great penetrating power."

"Hum!" said the harpooner, shaking his head with the air of a man
who would not be convinced.

"Notice one thing, my worthy Canadian," I resumed.
"If such an animal is in existence, if it inhabits the depths
of the ocean, if it frequents the strata lying miles below
the surface of the water, it must necessarily possess an
organisation the strength of which would defy all comparison."

"And why this powerful organisation?" demanded Ned.

"Because it requires incalculable strength to keep one's self
in these strata and resist their pressure. Listen to me.
Let us admit that the pressure of the atmosphere is represented
by the weight of a column of water thirty-two feet high.
In reality the column of water would be shorter, as we are
speaking of sea water, the density of which is greater than
that of fresh water. Very well, when you dive, Ned, as many
times 32 feet of water as there are above you, so many times
does your body bear a pressure equal to that of the atmosphere,
that is to say, 15 lb. for each square inch of its surface.
It follows, then, that at 320 feet this pressure equals
that of 10 atmospheres, of 100 atmospheres at 3,200 feet,
and of 1,000 atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is, about 6 miles;
which is equivalent to saying that if you could attain this
depth in the ocean, each square three-eighths of an inch
of the surface of your body would bear a pressure of 5,600 lb.
Ah! my brave Ned, do you know how many square inches you carry on
the surface of your body?"

"I have no idea, Mr. Aronnax."

"About 6,500; and as in reality the atmospheric pressure is about 15 lb.
to the square inch, your 6,500 square inches bear at this moment a pressure
of 97,500 lb."

"Without my perceiving it?"

"Without your perceiving it. And if you are not crushed by
such a pressure, it is because the air penetrates the interior
of your body with equal pressure. Hence perfect equilibrium
between the interior and exterior pressure, which thus neutralise
each other, and which allows you to bear it without inconvenience.
But in the water it is another thing."


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