Accordingly, walruses are the victims of a mindless hunting that soon will destroy them all, since their hunters indiscriminately slaughter pregnant females and youngsters, and over 4,000 individuals are destroyed annually.
Passing near these unusual animals, I could examine them at my leisure since they didn't stir.
Their hides were rough and heavy, a tan color leaning toward a reddish brown; their coats were short and less than abundant.
Some were four meters long.
More tranquil and less fearful than their northern relatives, they posted no sentinels on guard duty at the approaches to their campsite.
After examining this community of walruses, I decided to return in my tracks.
It was eleven o'clock, and if Captain Nemo found conditions favorable for taking his sights, I wanted to be present at the operation.
But I held no hopes that the sun would make an appearance that day.
It was hidden from our eyes by clouds squeezed together on the horizon.
Apparently the jealous orb didn't want to reveal this inaccessible spot on the globe to any human being.
Yet I decided to return to the Nautilus.
We went along a steep, narrow path that ran over the cliff's summit.
By 11:30 we had arrived at our landing place.
The beached skiff had brought the captain ashore.
I spotted him standing on a chunk of basalt.
His instruments were beside him.
His eyes were focused on the northern horizon, along which the sun was sweeping in its extended arc.
I found a place near him and waited without speaking.
Noon arrived, and just as on the day before, the sun didn't put in an appearance.
It was sheer bad luck.
Our noon sights were still lacking.
If we couldn't obtain them tomorrow, we would finally have to give up any hope of fixing our position.
In essence, it was precisely March 20.
Tomorrow, the 21st, was the day of the equinox; the sun would disappear below the horizon for six months not counting refraction, and after its disappearance the long polar night would begin.
Following the September equinox, the sun had emerged above the northerly horizon, rising in long spirals until December 21.
At that time, the summer solstice of these southernmost districts, the sun had started back down, and tomorrow it would cast its last rays.
I shared my thoughts and fears with Captain Nemo.
"You're right, Professor Aronnax," he told me.
"If I can't take the sun's altitude tomorrow, I won't be able to try again for another six months.
But precisely because sailors' luck has led me into these seas on March 21, it will be easy to get our bearings if the noonday sun does appear before our eyes."
"Why easy, Captain?"
"Because when the orb of day sweeps in such long spirals, it's difficult to measure its exact altitude above the horizon, and our instruments are open to committing serious errors."
"Then what can you do?"
"I use only my chronometer," Captain Nemo answered me.
"At noon tomorrow, March 21, if, after accounting for refraction, the sun's disk is cut exactly in half by the northern horizon, that will mean I'm at the South Pole."
"Right," I said.
"Nevertheless, it isn't mathematically exact proof, because the equinox needn't fall precisely at noon."
"No doubt, sir, but the error will be under 100 meters, and that's close enough for us.
Until tomorrow then."
Captain Nemo went back on board.
Conseil and I stayed behind until five o'clock, surveying the beach, observing and studying.
The only unusual object I picked up was an auk's egg of remarkable size, for which a collector would have paid more than ?1,000.
Its cream–colored tint, plus the streaks and markings that decorated it like so many hieroglyphics, made it a rare trinket.
I placed it in Conseil's hands, and holding it like precious porcelain from China, that cautious, sure–footed lad got it back to the Nautilus in one piece.
There I put this rare egg inside one of the glass cases in the museum.
I ate supper, feasting with appetite on an excellent piece of seal liver whose flavor reminded me of pork.
Then I went to bed; but not without praying, like a good Hindu, for the favors of the radiant orb.
The next day, March 21, bright and early at five o'clock in the morning, I climbed onto the platform.
I found Captain Nemo there.
"The weather is clearing a bit," he told me.