The Nautilus was imprisoned in a genuine tunnel of ice about twenty meters wide and filled with quiet water.
So the ship could easily exit by going either ahead or astern, sinking a few hundred meters deeper, and then taking an open passageway beneath the Ice Bank.
The ceiling lights were off, yet the lounge was still brightly lit.
This was due to the reflecting power of the walls of ice, which threw the beams of our beacon right back at us.
Words cannot describe the effects produced by our galvanic rays on these huge, whimsically sculpted blocks, whose every angle, ridge, and facet gave off a different glow depending on the nature of the veins running inside the ice.
It was a dazzling mine of gems, in particular sapphires and emeralds, whose jets of blue and green crisscrossed.
Here and there, opaline hues of infinite subtlety raced among sparks of light that were like so many fiery diamonds, their brilliance more than any eye could stand.
The power of our beacon was increased a hundredfold, like a lamp shining through the biconvex lenses of a world–class lighthouse.
"How beautiful!"
Conseil exclaimed.
"Yes," I said, "it's a wonderful sight!
Isn't it, Ned?"
"Oh damnation, yes!"
Ned Land shot back.
"It's superb!
I'm furious that I have to admit it.
Nobody has ever seen the like.
But this sight could cost us dearly.
And in all honesty, I think we're looking at things God never intended for human eyes."
Ned was right.
It was too beautiful.
All at once a yell from Conseil made me turn around.
"What is it?"
I asked.
"Master must close his eyes!
Master mustn't look!"
With that, Conseil clapped his hands over his eyes.
"But what's wrong, my boy?"
"I've been dazzled, struck blind!"
Involuntarily my eyes flew to the window, but I couldn't stand the fire devouring it.
I realized what had happened.
The Nautilus had just started off at great speed.
All the tranquil glimmers of the ice walls had then changed into blazing streaks.
The sparkles from these myriads of diamonds were merging with each other.
Swept along by its propeller, the Nautilus was traveling through a sheath of flashing light.
Then the panels in the lounge closed.
We kept our hands over our eyes, which were utterly saturated with those concentric gleams that swirl before the retina when sunlight strikes it too intensely.
It took some time to calm our troubled vision.
Finally we lowered our hands.
"Ye gods, I never would have believed it," Conseil said.
"And I still don't believe it!" the Canadian shot back.
"When we return to shore, jaded from all these natural wonders," Conseil added, "think how we'll look down on those pitiful land masses, those puny works of man!
No, the civilized world won't be good enough for us!"
Such words from the lips of this emotionless Flemish boy showed that our enthusiasm was near the boiling point.
But the Canadian didn't fail to throw his dram of cold water over us.
"The civilized world!" he said, shaking his head.
"Don't worry, Conseil my friend, we're never going back to that world!"
By this point it was five o'clock in the morning.
Just then there was a collision in the Nautilus's bow.
I realized that its spur had just bumped a block of ice.