and which, although dried, still preserved their wondrous colourings. Amongst these beautiful hydrophytes I remarked the verticillated cledostephes, the vine-leaved caulupes, &c.—in fact, the whole series of sea-weeds.
The whole day passed without my receiving a visit from Captain Nemo. The panels did not open; perhaps he was afraid I should get tired of the sight.
The Nautilus still headed N.N.E.; the pace was sixteen miles an hour, and the depth sixty metres.
Next day (Nov. 10) there was the same freedom and the same solitude. I saw none of the ship’s company. Ned and Conseil passed the greater part of the day with me. They were astonished at the inexplicable absence of the captain. Was he ill? Had he altered his plans concerning us?
After all, as Conseil remarked, we enjoyed complete freedom, and were well and abundantly fed. Our host observed the terms of the treaty; and, moreover, even the singularity of our situation had some real compensation, so that we had no right to find fault with him. Upon that day I commenced to write a record of our adventures, which has enabled me to relate them with such exactness; and I wrote upon a paper made from the sea-wrack.
Upon the 11th November, the influx of fresh air, very early in the morning, apprised us that we had risen to the surface to replenish the store of oxygen. I ascended the staircase, and passed out upon the platform.
It was six o’clock. The sky was cloudy, the sea looked grey, but calm; scarce a ripple ruffled the surface. I wondered whether Captain Nemo would
