And above all, what must he have thought when Captain Nemo pulled a bag of pearls from a pocket in his diving suit and placed it in the fisherman’s hands? This magnificent benefaction from the Man of the Waters to the poor Indian from Ceylon was accepted by the latter with trembling hands. His bewildered eyes indicated that he didn’t know to what superhuman creatures he owed both his life and his fortune. At the captain’s signal we returned to the bank of shellfish, and retracing our steps, we walked for half an hour until we encountered the anchor connecting the seafloor with the Nautilus’s skiff. Back on board, the sailors helped divest us of our heavy copper carapaces. Captain Nemo’s first words were spoken to the Canadian. “Thank you, Mr. Land,” he told him. “Tit for tat, captain,” Ned Land replied. “I owed it to you.” The ghost of a smile glided across the captain’s lips, and that was all. “To the Nautilus,” he said. The longboat flew over the waves. A few minutes later we encountered the shark’s corpse again, floating. From the black markings on the tips of its fins, I recognized the dreadful Squalus melanopterus from the seas of the East Indies, a variety in the species of sharks proper. It was more than twenty-five feet long; its enormous mouth occupied a third of its body. It was an adult, as could be seen from the six rows of teeth forming an isosceles triangle in its upper jaw. Conseil looked at it with purely scientific fascination, and I’m sure he placed it, not without good reason, in the class of cartilaginous fish, order Chondropterygia with fixed gills, family Selacia, genus Squalus. While I was contemplating this inert mass, suddenly a dozen of these voracious melanoptera appeared around our longboat; but, paying no attention to us, they pounced on the corpse and quarreled over every scrap of it. By 8:30 we were back on board the Nautilus. There I fell to thinking about the incidents that marked our excursion over the Mannar oysterbank. Two impressions inevitably stood out. One concerned Captain Nemo’s matchless bravery, the other his devotion to a human being, a representative of that race from which he had fled beneath the seas. In spite of everything, this strange man hadn’t yet succeeded in completely stifling his heart. When I shared these impressions with him, he answered me in a tone touched with emotion: “That Indian, professor, lives in the land of the oppressed, and I am to this day, and will be until my last breath, a native of that same land!” CHAPTER 4 The Red Sea