Twenty Trillion Leagues Under the Sea Read Online Free

moment. Luckily for us, it is applied on all sides simultaneously.’
    ‘Indeed,’ drawled Lebret.
    ‘What of the observation porthole – are the steel shutters holding up?’
    ‘Very well, sir.’
    ‘Sonar?’
    ‘Nothing to report, Captain.’
    ‘What do you say, messieurs?’ announced the captain. ‘Shall we try her lower?’
    ‘You’re sure that’s a good idea, Captain?’ Lebret asked.
    ‘Ask the two messieurs standing to your left,’ the captain returned, without looking at him. ‘Take us down to one thousand five hundred metres.’
    ‘Very good, sir.’
    The vanes on the exterior of the vessel tilted, and more air was pumped from the main tanks; at the same time, the four smaller orientational tanks shifted ballast between them. The Plongeur tilted forward and resumed its descent.
    Almost at once, disaster struck.
    There was a cacophonous report, like a cannon firing. The whole vessel shook and trembled. An alarm sounded a flute-like, almost musical noise. The angle of the deck did not increase, but the boat began to fall much faster. Nobody on the bridge needed to look at the suddenly spinning numbers of the depth gauge – everybody registered the suddenly accelerating descent in their guts. ‘Hey!’ cried Lebret.
    ‘Report!’ demanded the captain.
    ‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Le Banquier, looking frantically between the readouts of his various pieces of equipment. ‘We’re descending …’

    ‘That much is obvious, sailor!’ shouted the captain. ‘Go aft, Capot! Avocat go to the stern. Find out what has happened.’ The two crewmen hurried from the bridge.
    ‘I’m trying to close the main ballast tanks, sir,’ said Le Banquier. ‘But the vents are not responding. Or perhaps they are. But either way – we are still going down.’
    Metres fluttered past on the readout; tens adding to tens. The hundreds began to click round.
    Abruptly Capot burst into the bridge from the stern of the vessel, sweat polishing bright patches upon his face. His eyes were wide, and for a moment he could not speak. ‘The engines are fine,’ he gasped. ‘It must be the forward ballast tanks!’ He ran through the bridge, heading fore; and Avocat followed after him.
    The hull growled and coughed with the increasing pressure.
    ‘Sir?’ cried Le Banquier. ‘I must report that the forward vanes are stuck in descent position.’
    ‘What?’ snapped the captain. ‘The vanes themselves? Or have the control cables sheared?’
    ‘I—I don’t know, sir.’
    ‘Well get forward and find out, man!’
    Le Banquier scrambled clumsily from his seat and hurried down the forward corridor. The hull gave a great, shuddery moan, punctuated with rifle-shot cracks.
    Nobody spoke. Of the remaining individuals inside the bridge, only Lebret could master even the appearance of unconcern. The scientists were gripping their leather ceiling handles tight; the captain brooded. One thousand five hundred metres flickered past on the depth gauge. Cloche drew a breath deep into his chest. ‘So messieurs,’ he said, addressing the Indians. ‘We shall now see how far your design exceeds its safety margins.’
    ‘May I go forward, captain?’ asked Jhutti. ‘To see if I can render assistance?’
    ‘By all means.’
    Jhutti made his way downslope and left the bridge along the corridor.
    The silence was oppressive; but nobody broke it. For longminutes the only sound was the strangely mournful hooting of the alarm, punctuated by the raucous gong-like clatterings made by the increasing weight of water pressure on the steel flanks of the Plongeur .
    ‘How deep does the ocean go in these parts anyway?’ asked Lebret.
    ‘You ask an interesting question, sir,’ replied the captain. ‘In the open Atlantic, the seabed is between four and five thousand metres down – assuming that one does not disappear into one of the celebrated ocean trenches, some of which are ten thousand metres deep and more. But—’ a drumroll of bangs and