Jules Verne Forum

<jvf@Gilead.org.il>

JanFebMarAprMayJunJulAugSepOctNovDec 199619971998199920002001200220032004200520062007200820092010

[Le Blog Personnel de Professeur Aronnax] December 11th 1867

From: Harry Hayfield <harryhayfield~at~googlemail.com>
Date: Thu, 21 Jan 2010 13:53:27 -0800 (PST)
To: jvf~at~gilead.org.il

My apolgies for not making any entries of late, but as I have mentioned
before this machine (as I cannot think of a better term) is a
scientific miracle and I have spent the best part of a month going over
it with a fine tooth comb. In fact I have spent so much time that I
failed to return a book I borrowed last week back to the library, but
soon made amends for that this morning (and being the perfect person I
am made a small donation for it's lateness) before picking up another
book by the author Jean Mace called "The Slaves of the Stomach" and was
making rapid progress through it when Conseil asked me to come to a
nearby window and pointed out an object.

Now, as a person trained in the ways of animal science everytime I see
something I automatically assume it's an animal of some kind, so thank
goodness I managed to drag myself away from that kind of thinking long
enough to realise that what I was seeing was in fact a sunken ship.

The keel seemed to be in good order, and it had been wrecked at most
some few hours. Three stumps of masts, broken off about two feet above
the bridge, showed that the vessel had had to sacrifice its masts. But,
lying on its side, it had filled, and it was heeling over to port. This
skeleton of what it had once been was a sad spectacle as it lay lost
under the waves, but sadder still was the sight of the bridge, where
some corpses, bound with ropes, were still lying. I counted five—four
men, one of whom was standing at the helm, and a woman standing by the
poop, holding an infant in her arms. She was quite young. I could
distinguish her features, which the water had not decomposed, by the
brilliant light from the Nautilus. In one despairing effort, she had
raised her infant above her head— poor little thing!—whose arms
encircled its mother’s neck. The attitude of the four sailors was
frightful, distorted as they were by their convulsive movements, whilst
making a last effort to free themselves from the cords that bound them
to the vessel. The steersman alone, calm, with a grave, clear face, his
grey hair glued to his forehead, and his hand clutching the wheel of
the helm, seemed even then to be guiding the three broken masts through
the depths of the ocean. As the Nautlius turned, I was able to read the
ship's name and location. It was The Florida and had been registered in
Sunderland, England.

This was not the first shipwreck we saw, in fact between that sighting
and the Pomotou Islands that same day, I counted at least six sunken
ships. That evening over dinner, I suggested that one day the Islands
would link from New Zealand to the Marquesas Islands and create a new
continent. He looked up from his meal and with an expression, that I
might be honest for a moment, scared me witless replied "The earth does
not want new continents, but new men!".

--
Posted By Harry Hayfield to Le Blog Personnel de Professeur Aronnax on
1/21/2010 09:40:00 PM

Received on Thu 21 Jan 2010 - 23:53:34 IST

JV.Gilead.org.il
Copyright © Zvi Har’El
$Date: 2010/01/25 01:00:04 $$