There, under the dark waters, stretched the pintadine bank,
an inexhaustible field of pearls, the length of which is more
than twenty miles.
Captain Nemo, Ned Land, Conseil, and I took our places
in the stern of the boat. The master went to the tiller;
his four companions leaned on their oars, the painter was cast off,
and we sheered off.
The boat went towards the south; the oarsmen did not hurry. I noticed
that their strokes, strong in the water, only followed each other every
ten seconds, according to the method generally adopted in the navy.
Whilst the craft was running by its own velocity, the liquid drops
struck the dark depths of the waves crisply like spats of melted lead.
A little billow, spreading wide, gave a slight roll to the boat, and some
samphire reeds flapped before it.
We were silent. What was Captain Nemo thinking of? Perhaps of
the land he was approaching, and which he found too near to him,
contrary to the Canadian's opinion, who thought it too far off.
As to Conseil, he was merely there from curiosity.
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