I felt the steel plates tremble at the fastenings of the bolts;
its bars bent, its partitions groaned; the windows of the saloon
seemed to curve under the pressure of the waters. And this firm
structure would doubtless have yielded, if, as its Captain had said,
it had not been capable of resistance like a solid block. We had attained
a depth of 16,000 yards (four leagues), and the sides of the Nautilus
then bore a pressure of 1,600 atmospheres, that is to say, 3,200 lb.
to each square two-fifths of an inch of its surface.
"What a situation to be in!" I exclaimed. "To overrun these deep regions
where man has never trod! Look, Captain, look at these magnificent rocks,
these uninhabited grottoes, these lowest receptacles of the globe,
where life is no longer possible! What unknown sights are here!
Why should we be unable to preserve a remembrance of them?"
"Would you like to carry away more than the remembrance?"
said Captain Nemo.
"What do you mean by those words?"
"I mean to say that nothing is easier than to make a photographic
view of this submarine region.
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