We left the saloon. There was no one in the library. At the centre staircase, by the berths of the ship’s crew, there was no one. I thought that Captain Nemo must be in the pilot’s cage. It was best to wait. We all returned to the saloon. For twenty minutes we remained thus, trying to hear the slightest noise which might be made on board the _Nautilus_, when Captain Nemo entered. He seemed not to see us; his face, generally so impassive, showed signs of uneasiness. He watched the compass silently, then the manometer; and, going to the planisphere, placed his finger on a spot representing the southern seas. I would not interrupt him; but, some minutes later, when he turned towards me, I said, using one of his own expressions in the Torres Straits: “An incident, Captain?” “No, sir; an accident this time.” “Serious?” “Perhaps.” “Is the danger immediate?” “No.” “The _Nautilus_ has stranded?” “Yes.” “And this has happened—how?” “From a caprice of nature, not from the ignorance of man. Not a mistake has been made in the working. But we cannot prevent equilibrium from producing its effects. We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones.” Captain Nemo had chosen a strange moment for uttering this philosophical reflection. On the whole, his answer helped me little. “May I ask, sir, the cause of this accident?” “An enormous block of ice, a whole mountain, has turned over,” he replied. “When icebergs are undermined at their base by warmer water or reiterated shocks their centre of gravity rises, and the whole thing turns over. This is what has happened; one of these blocks, as it fell, struck the _Nautilus_, then, gliding under its hull, raised it with irresistible force, bringing it into beds which are not so thick, where it is lying on its side.” “But can we not get the _Nautilus_ off by emptying its reservoirs, that it might regain its equilibrium?” “That, sir, is being done at this moment. You can hear the pump working. Look at the needle of the manometer; it shows that the _Nautilus_ is rising, but the block of ice is floating with it; and, until some obstacle stops its ascending motion, our position cannot be altered.” Indeed, the _Nautilus_ still held the same position to starboard; doubtless it would right itself when the block stopped. But at this moment who knows if we may not be frightfully crushed between the two glassy surfaces? I reflected on all the consequences of our position. Captain Nemo never took his eyes off the manometer. Since the fall of the iceberg, the _Nautilus_ had risen about a hundred and fifty feet, but it still made the same angle with the perpendicular. Suddenly a slight movement was felt in the hold. Evidently it was righting a little. Things hanging in the saloon were sensibly returning to their normal position. The partitions were nearing the upright. No one spoke. With beating hearts we watched and felt the straightening. The boards became horizontal under our feet. Ten minutes passed.