I expressed my opinion on this point strongly to my uncle. He merely shook his head. I, however, am strongly impressed by a conviction that I am not wrong. Are we advancing towards some mighty waterfall which shall cast us into the abyss? Probably this mode of descending into the abyss may be agreeable to the Professor, because it would be something like the vertical descent he is so eager to make. I entertain a very different opinion. Whatever be the truth, it is certain that not many leagues distant there must be some very extraordinary phenomenon, for as we advance the roar becomes something mighty and stupendous. Is it in the water, or in the air? I cast hasty glances aloft at the suspended vapors, and I seek to penetrate their mighty depths. But the vault above is tranquil. The clouds, which are now elevated to the very summit, appear utterly still and motionless, and completely lost in the irradiation of electric light. It is necessary, therefore, to seek for the cause of this phenomenon elsewhere. I examine the horizon, now perfectly calm, pure, and free from all haze. Its aspect still remains unchanged. But if this awful noise proceeds from a cataract--if, so to speak in plain English, this vast interior ocean is precipitated into a lower basin--if these tremendous roars are produced by the noise of falling waters, the current would increase in activity, and its increasing swiftness would give me some idea of the extent of the peril with which we are menaced. I consult the current. It simply does not exist: there is no such thing. An empty bottle cast into the water lies to leeward without motion. About four o'clock Hans rises, clambers up the mast, and reaches the truck itself. From this elevated position his looks are cast around. They take in a vast circumference of the ocean. At last, his eyes remain fixed. His face expresses no astonishment, but his eyes slightly dilate. "He has seen something at last," cried my uncle. "I think so," I replied. Hans came down, stood beside us, and pointed with his right hand to the south. "Der nere," he said. "There," replied my uncle. And seizing his telescope, he looked at it with great attention for about a minute, which to me appeared an age. I knew not what to think or expect. "Yes, yes," he cried in a tone of considerable surprise, "there it is." "What?" I asked. "A tremendous spurt of water rising out of the waves." "Some other marine monster," I cried, already alarmed. "Perhaps." "Then let us steer more to the westward, for we know what we have to expect from antediluvian animals," was my eager reply. "Go ahead," said my uncle. I turned towards Hans. Hans was at the tiller steering with his usual imperturbable calm.