At three in the morning, full of uneasiness, I mounted the platform.
Captain Nemo had not left it. He was standing at the fore part near
his flag, which a slight breeze displayed above his head. He did not take
his eyes from the vessel. The intensity of his look seemed to attract,
and fascinate, and draw it onward more surely than if he had been towing it.
The moon was then passing the meridian. Jupiter was rising in the east.
Amid this peaceful scene of nature, sky and ocean rivalled each other
in tranquillity, the sea offering to the orbs of night the finest mirror
they could ever have in which to reflect their image. As I thought of
the deep calm of these elements, compared with all those passions brooding
imperceptibly within the Nautilus, I shuddered.
The vessel was within two miles of us. It was ever nearing that
phosphorescent light which showed the presence of the Nautilus.
I could see its green and red lights, and its white lantern hanging
from the large foremast. An indistinct vibration quivered through
its rigging, showing that the furnaces were heated to the uttermost.
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