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seil, delighted at the “pleasure party” in prospect. Five sailors were resting on their oars in the boat alongside.

Day had not yet appeared. The sky was cloudy, and but few stars were visible. I looked towards the land, but could descry nothing but a dark line across the horizon from S.W. to N.W. The Nautilus, having run up the western side of Ceylon during the night, was west of the bay, or rather of the gulf formed between the “main island” and the island of Manaar. There, beneath the dark waters, lay the bank of pintadines, an inexhaustible pearl-field twenty miles in length. Captain Nemo, Ned Land, and I, took our places in the stern-sheets of the launch. The coxswain took the tiller, the sailors were ready, the “painter” was “cast-off,” and we started.

The course was to the south; the rowers did not hurry. I noticed that, while they pulled strongly, they rested for about ten seconds between each stroke, like man-o’-war’s men. As the boat proceeded the bubbles broke crisply upon the dark waves like drops of molten lead. A slight swell rolling in from the offing gave some motion to the boat, and broke beneath the bows in curling waves.

We were all silent. What was Captain Nemo thinking about? Perhaps of the land we were approaching, and which was too near for him, as it was still too far for the Canadian. As for Conseil, he was with us merely as a spectator. About half-past five the first tints on the horizon showed the coast-line more clearly. It appeared to be somewhat flat on the east side, but became more undulating towards the south. We were still five miles away, and the coast was not very distinctly seen, owing to the mist. Between us and the shore nothing was to be seen. Not a diver nor his boat. A death-like silence reigned in this