style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Excellent!’ cried the harpooner, who would only think of them from their eatable point of view.
‘Fourth,’ said Conseil, nowise confused, ‘the apods with long bodies and no ventral fins, covered with a thick and often sticky skin – an order that only comprises one family. Type: the eel, wolffish, sword-fish, lance, etc.’
‘Middling! – only middling!’ answered Ned Land.
‘Fifth,’ said Conseil, ‘the lophiadae, distinguished by the bones of the carpus being elongated, and forming a kind of arm, which supports the pectoral fins. Type: the angler, or fishing-frog.’
‘Bad!’ – replied the harpooner.
‘Sixth and last,’ said Conseil, ‘the plectognathes, which include those which have the maxillary bones anchylosed to the sides of the intermaxillaries, which alone form the jaws – an order which has no real ventral fins, and is composed of two families. Type: the sun-fish.’
‘Which any saucepan would be ashamed of!’ cried the Canadian.
‘Did you understand, friend Ned?’ asked the learned Conseil.
‘Not the least, friend Conseil,’ answered the harpooner. ‘But go on, you are very interesting.’
‘As to the cartilaginous fish,’ continued the imperturbable Conseil, ‘they only include three orders.’
‘So much the better,’ said Ned.
‘First, the cyclostomes, with circular mouths and gills opening by numerous holes – an order including only one family. Type: the lamprey.’
‘You must get used to it to like it,’ answered Ned Land.
‘Second, the selachü, with gills like the cyclostomes, but whose lower jaw is mobile. This order, which is the most important of the class, includes two families. Type: sharks and rays.’
‘What!’ cried Ned; ‘rays and sharks in the same order? Well, friend Conseil, I should not advise you to put them in the same jar.’
‘Third,’ answered Conseil, ‘the sturiones, with gills opened as usual by a single slit, furnished with an operaculum – an order which includes four genera. Type: the sturgeon.’
‘Well, friend Conseil, you have kept the best for the last, in my opinion. Is that all?’
‘Yes, Ned,’ answered Conseil; ‘and remark that even when you know that you know nothing, for the families are subdivided into genera, sub-genera, species, varieties.’
‘Well, friend Conseil,’ said the harpooner, leaning against the glass of the panel, ‘there are some varieties passing now.’
‘Yes! – some fish,’ cried Conseil. ‘It is like being at an aquarium.’
‘No,’ I answered, ‘for an aquarium is only a cage, and those fish are as free as birds in the air.’
‘Well, now, Conseil, tell me their names! – tell me their names!’ said Ned Land.
‘I?’ answered Conseil; ‘I could not do it; that is my master’s business.’
And, in fact, the worthy fellow, though an enthusiastic classifier, was not a naturalist, and I do not know if he could have distinguished a tunny-fish from a bonito. The Canadian, on the contrary, named them all without hesitation.
‘A balister,’ said I.
‘And a Chinese balister too!’ answered Ned Land.
‘Genus of the balisters, family of the scleroderms; order of the plectognaths,’ muttered Conseil.
Decidedly, between them, Ned Land and Conseil would have made a distinguished naturalist.
The Canadian was not mistaken. A shoal of balisters with fat bodies, grained skins, armed with a spur on their dorsal fin, were playing round the Nautilus and agitating the four rows of quills bristling on either side of their tails. Nothing could be more admirable than their gray backs, white stomachs, and gold spots that shone amidst the waves. Amongst them undulated skates like a sheet abandoned to the winds, and with them I perceived, to my great joy, the Chinese skate, yellow above, pale pink underneath, with three darts behind the eye – a rare species.
For two hours a whole aquatic army escorted the Nautilus. Amidst their games and gambols, whilst they rivalled each other in brilliancy and speed, I recognised the green wrasse, the surmullet, marked with a double black stripe; the goby, with its round tail, white with violet spots; the Japanese mackerel, with blue body and silver head; gilt heads with a black band down their tails; aulostones with flute-like noses, real sea-woodcocks, of which some specimens attain a yard in length; Japanese salamanders; sea-eels, serpents six feet long with bright little eyes and a huge mouth bristling with teeth.
Our admiration was excited to the highest pitch. Ned named the fish, Conseil classified them, and I was delighted with their vivacity and the beauty of their forms. It had never been my lot to see these animals living and free in their natural element. I shall not cite all the varieties that passed before our dazzled eyes, all that collection from the Japanese and Chinese seas. More numerous than the birds of the air, these fish swam round us, doubtless attracted by the electric light.
Suddenly light again appeared in the saloon. The iron panels were again closed. The enchanting vision disappeared. But long after that I was dreaming still, until my eyes happened to fall on the instruments hung on the partition. The compass still indicated the direction of NNE., the manometer indicated a pressure of five atmospheres, corresponding to a depth of 100 fathoms, and the electric log gave a speed of fifteen miles an hour.
I expected Captain Nemo, but he did not appear. The clock was on the stroke of five. Ned Land and Conseil returned to the cabin, and I regained my room. My dinner was laid there. It consisted of turtle soup made of the most delicate imbricated hawksbill turtle, of a delicate white surmullet, slightly crimped, of which the liver, cooked by itself, made a delicious dish, and fillets of the emperor-holocanthus, the flavour of which appeared to me superior even to salmon.
I passed the evening reading, writing, and thinking. Then sleep overpowered me, and I stretched myself on my zostera couch and slept profoundly, whilst the Nautilus glided rapidly along the current of the Black River.
CHAPTER 15 A Written Invitation
The next day, the 9th of November, I awoke after a long sleep that had lasted twelve hours. Conseil came, as was his custom, to ask ‘how monsieur had passed the night,’ and to offer his services. He had left his friend the Canadian sleeping like a man who had never done anything else in his life.
I let the brave fellow chatter on in his own fashion, without troubling to answer him much. I was anxious about the absence of Captain Nemo during our spectacle of the evening before, and hoped to see him again that day.
I was soon clothed in my byssus garments. Their nature provoked many reflections from Conseil. I told him they were manufactured with the lustrous and silky filaments which fasten a sort of shell, very abundant on the shores of the Mediterranean, to the rocks. Formerly beautiful
