Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the thirty-eighth chapter of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

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While we try to keep the text as close to the original as possible, some words have been changed to honor the marginalized communities who've identified the words as harmful and to stay in alignment with bite at a time book's brand values today we'll be continuing 20,000 leagues under the Sea by Jules Verne chapter.

15 accident or incident?

The next day, the 22 march at six in the morning, preparations for the departure were begun.

The last gleams of twilight were melting into night.

The cold was great.

The constellation shone with wonderful intensity, and the zenith glittered that wondrous southern cross, the polar bear of antarctic regions.

The thermometer showed 120 below zero, and when the wind freshened, it was most biting.

Flakes of ice increased on the open water.

The sea seemed everywhere alike.

Numerous blackish patches spread on the surface, showing the formation of fresh ice.

Evidently the southern basin, frozen during the six winter months, was absolutely inaccessible.

What became of the whales in that time?

Doubtless they went beneath the icebergs, seeking more practicable seas.

As to the seals and morses accustomed to live in a hard climate, they remained on these icy shores.

These creatures have the instinct to break holes in the ice field and to keep them open.

To these holes they come for breath.

When the birds driven away by the cold have emigrated to the north, these sea mammals remain sole masters of the polar continent.

But the reservoirs are filling with water, and the nautilus was slowly descending at a thousand feet deep.

It stopped.

Its screw beat the waves, and it advanced straight towards the north at a speed of 15 miles an hour.

Towards night it was already floating under the immense body of the iceberg.

At three in the morning, I was awakened by a violent shock.

I sat up in my bed and listened in the darkness.

When I was thrown into the middle of the room.

The nautilus, after having struck, had rebounded violently.

I groped along the partition and by the staircase to the saloon, which was lit by the luminous ceiling.

The furniture was upset.

Fortunately, the windows were firmly set and it held fast.

The pictures on the starboard side, from being no longer vertical, were clinging to the paper, whilst those of the port side were hanging at least a foot from the wall.

The nautilus was lying on its starboard side, perfectly motionless.

I heard footsteps and a confusion of voices, but Captain Nemo did not appear.

As I was leaving the saloon, ned land and conceal entered.

What is the matter?

Said I at once.

I came to ask you, sir, replied conceal.

Confound it.

Exclaimed the Canadian.

I know well enough the nautilus has struck.

And judging by the way she lies, I do not think she will write herself as she did the first time in Torres straits.

But I asked, has she at least come to the surface of the sea?

We do not know, said conceal.

It is easy to decide, I answered.

I consulted the monometer.

To my great surprise, it showed a depth of more than 180 fathoms.

What does that mean?

I exclaimed.

We must ask Captain Nemo, said conceal.

But where shall we find him?

Said Ned land.

Follow me, said I to my companions.

We left the saloon.

There was no one in the library, at the center staircase, by the berths of the ship's crew, there was no one.

I thought that Captain Nemo must be in the pilot's cage.

It was best to wait.

We all returned to the saloon.

For 20 minutes we remained thus, trying to hear the slightest noise which might be made on board the Nautilus.

When Captain Nemo entered, he seemed not to see us.

His face, generally so impassive, showed signs of uneasiness.

He watched the compass silently.

Then the monometer, and, going to the planosphere, placed his finger on a spot representing the southern seas.

I would not interrupt him, but some minutes later, when he turned towards me, I said, using one of his expressions in the torres straits.

An incident, captain?

No, sir.

An accident, this time.

Serious, perhaps.

Is the danger immediate?

No, the nautilus is stranded?

Yes.

And this happened how?

From a caprice of nature, not from the ignorance of man.

Not a mistake has been made in the working.

But we cannot prevent equilibrium from producing its effects.

We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones.

Captain Nemo had chosen a strange moment for uttering this philosophical reflection.

On the whole, his answer helped me little.

May I ask, sir, the cause of this accident?

An enormous block of ice, a whole mountain is turned over, he replied.

When icebergs are undermined at their base by warmer water or reiterated shocks, their center of gravity rises, and the whole thing turns over.

This is what has happened.

One of these blocks, as it fell, struck the Nautilus, then, gliding under its hole, raised it with irresistible force, bringing it into beds which are not so thick where it is lying on its side.

But can we not get the Nautilus off by emptying its reservoirs?

That it might regain its equilibrium?

That, sir, is being done.

At this moment you can hear the pump working.

Look at the needle of the monometer.

It shows that the nautilus is rising, but the block of ice is floating with it.

And until some obstacle stops its ascending motion, our position cannot be altered.

Indeed, the nautilus still held the same position to starboard.

Doubtless it would ride itself when the block stopped.

But at this moment, who knows if we may not be frightfully crushed between the two glassy surfaces, I reflected on all the consequences of our position.

Captain Nemo never took his eyes off the manometer.

Since the fall of the iceberg, the nautilus had risen about 150ft, but it still made the same angle with the perpendicular.

Suddenly a slight movement was felt in the hold.

Evidently it was riding a little.

Things hanging in the saloon were sensibly returning to their normal position.

The partitions were nearing the upright.

No one spoke.

With beating hearts, we watched and felt the straightening.

The boards became horizontal under our feet.

Ten minutes passed.

At least we have rided.

I exclaimed.

Yes, said Captain Nemo, going to the door of the saloon.

But are we floating?

I asked.

Certainly, he replied, since the reservoirs are not empty, and when empty, the nautilus must rise to the surface of the sea.

We were in open sea, but at a distance of about ten yards.

On either side of the nautilus rose a dazzling wall of ice above and beneath the same wall above, because the lower surface of the iceberg stretched over us like an immense ceiling beneath.

Because the overturned block, having slid by degrees, had found a resting place on the lateral walls, which kept it in that position.

The nautilus was really imprisoned in a perfect tunnel of ice, more than 20 yards in breadth, filled with quiet water.

It was easy to get out of it by going either forward or backward, and then make a free passage under the iceberg some hundreds of yards deeper.

The luminous Ceiling had been extinguished, but the saloon was still resplendent with intense light.

It was the powerful reflection from the glass partition sent violently back to the sheets of the lantern.

I cannot describe the effect of the voltaic rays upon the great blocks so capriciously cut.

Upon every angle, every ridge, every facet, was thrown a different light, according to the nature of the veins running through the ice, a dazzling mine of gems, particularly of sapphires, near blue rays crossing with the green of the emerald.

Here and there were opal shades of wonderful softness, running through bright spots like diamonds of fire.

The brilliancy of which the eye could not bear.

The power of the lantern seemed increased a hundredfold, like a lamp through the lenticular plates of a first class lighthouse.

How beautiful.

How beautiful.

Cried conceal.

Yes, I said.

It is a wonderful sight, is it not, Ned?

Yes, confound it.

Yes, answered Ned land.

It is superb.

I am mad at being obliged to admit it.

No one has ever seen anything like it.

But the sight may cost us dear.

And if I must say all, I think we are seeing here things which God never intended man to see.

Ned was right.

It was too beautiful.

Suddenly a cry from conceal made me turn.

What is it?

I asked.

Shut your eyes, sir.

Do not look, sir.

Saying, which conceal clapped his hands over his eyes.

But what is the matter, my boy?

I am dazzled, blinded.

My eyes turned involuntarily towards the glass, but I could not stand the fire, which seemed to devour them.

I understood what had happened.

The nautilus had put on full speed.

All the quiet luster of the ice walls was at once changed into flashes of lightning.

The fire from these myriads of diamonds was blinding.

It required some time to calm our troubled looks.

At last, the hands were taken down.

Faith, I should never have believed it said conceal.

It was then five in the morning, and at that moment a shock was felt at the boughs of the Nautilus.

I knew that its spur had struck a block of ice.

It must have been a false maneuver, for this submarine tunnel obstructed by blocks was not very easy navigation.

I thought that Captain Nemo, by changing his course, would either turn these obstacles, or else follow the windings of the tunnel.

In any case, the road before us cannot be entirely blocked.

But contrary to my expectations, the Nautilus took a decided retrograde motion.

We are going backwards, said conceal.

Yes, I replied.

This end of the tunnel can have no egress.

And then?

Then, said I, the working is easy.

We must go back again and go out at the southern opening.

That is all.

In speaking thus, I wished to appear more confident than I really was.

But the retrograde motion of the nautilus was increasing.

In reversing the screw, it carried us at great speed.

It will be a hindrance, said Ned.

What does it matter?

Some hours more or less, provided we get out at last.

Yes, repeated Ned.

Land.

Provided we do get out at last.

For a short time I walked from the saloon to the library.

My companions were silent.

I soon threw myself on an otoman and took a book, which my eyes overran mechanically.

A quarter of an hour after conceal, approaching me, said, is what you are reading very interesting, sir?

Very interesting, I replied.

I should think so, sir.

It is your own book you are reading my book?

And indeed I was holding in my hand the work on the great submarine depths.

I did not even dream of it.

I closed the book and returned to my walk.

Ned and conceal rose to go.

Stay here, my friends, said I, detaining them.

Let us remain together until we are out of this block.

As you please, sir, conceal replied.

Some hours passed.

I often looked at the instruments hanging from the partition.

The monometer showed that the nautilus kept at a constant depth of more than 300 yards.

The compass still pointed to south.

The log indicated a speed of 20 miles an hour, which in such a cramped space was very great.

But Captain Nemo knew that he could not hasten too much, and that minutes were worth ages to us.

At 25 minutes past eight, a second shock took place, this time from behind.

I turned pale.

My companions were close by my side.

I seized conceal's hand.

Our looks expressed our feelings better than words.

At this moment the captain entered the saloon.

I went up to him.

Our course is barred southward?

I asked.

Yes, sir.

The iceberg is shifted and closed every outlet.

We are blocked up, then.

Yes.

Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for.

The next bite of 20,000 leagues under the sea.

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