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Chapter 17. An Underwater Forest

           But,lyingonitsside,ithadfilled,anditwasheelingovertoport.Thisskeletonofwhatithadoncebeenwasasadspectacleasitlaylostunderthewaves,butsadderstillwasthesightofthebridge,wheresomecorpses,boundwithropes,werestilllying.Icountedfive—fourmen,oneofwhomwasstandingatthehelm,andawomanstandingbythepoop,holdinganinfantinherarms.Shewasquiteyoung.Icoulddistinguishherfeatures,whichthewaterhadnotdecomposed,bythebrilliantlightfromtheNautilus.Inonedespairingeffort,shehadraisedherinfantaboveherhead—poorlittlething!—whosearmsencircleditsmother’sneck.Theattitudeofthefoursailorswasfrightful,distortedastheywerebytheirconvulsivemovements,whilstmakingalastefforttofreethemselvesfromthecordsthatboundthemtothevessel.Thesteersmanalone,calm,withagrave,clearface,hisgreyhairgluedtohisforehead,andhishandclutchingthewheelofthehelm,seemedeventhentobeguidingthethreebrokenmaststhroughthedepthsoftheocean.

           Whatascene!Weweredumb;ourheartsbeatfastbeforethisshipwreck,takenasitwerefromlifeandphotographedinitslastmoments.AndIsawalready,comingtowardsitwithhungryeyes,enormoussharks,attractedbythehumanflesh.

           However,theNautilus,turning,wentroundthesubmergedvessel,andinoneinstantIreadonthestern—"TheFlorida,Sunderland."

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