Chapter 18
Four Thousand Leagues Under the PacificBY THE NEXT MORNING, November 18, I was fully recovered from my
exhaustion of the day before, and I climbed onto the platform just
as the Nautilus's chief officer was pronouncing his daily phrase.
It then occurred to me that these words either referred to the
state of the sea, or that they meant: "There's nothing in
sight."
And in truth, the ocean was deserted. Not a sail on the horizon.
The tips of Crespo Island had disappeared during the night. The
sea, absorbing every color of the prism except its blue rays,
reflected the latter in every direction and sported a wonderful
indigo tint. The undulating waves regularly took on the appearance
of watered silk with wide stripes.
I was marveling at this magnificent ocean view when Ca
