The Nautilus defended itself like a human being. What a predicament! We were rocking frightfully. We were in dread, in the last stages of sheer horror, our blood frozen in our veins, our nerves numb, drenched in cold sweat as if from the throes of dying! And what a noise around our frail skiff! What roars echoing from several miles away! What crashes from the waters breaking against sharp rocks on the sea floor, where the hardest objects are smashed, where tree trunks are worn down and worked into "a shaggy fur," as Norwegians express it! I was experiencing that accompanying nausea that follows such continuous spinning motions. The skiff, still attached to the ship's plating, was likewise carried around at dizzying speed. It was sweeping around in a spiral whose radius kept growing smaller and smaller. This was where the Nautilus had been sent accidentally-or perhaps deliberately-by its captain. It can suck down not only ships but whales, and even polar bears from the northernmost regions. They form a whirlpool aptly called "the ocean's navel," whose attracting power extends a distance of fifteen kilometers. Monstrous waves race together from every point of the horizon.
They form a vortex from which no ship has ever been able to escape. The Maelstrom! Could a more frightening name have rung in our ears under more frightening circumstances? Were we lying in the dangerous waterways off the Norwegian coast? Was the Nautilus being dragged into this whirlpool just as the skiff was about to detach from its plating?Īs you know, at the turn of the tide, the waters confined between the Varrö and Lofoten Islands rush out with irresistible violence. "Maelstrom! Maelstrom!" they were shouting.
We weren't the cause of the crew's concern. But one word twenty times repeated, one dreadful word, told me the reason for the agitation spreading aboard the Nautilus.
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