But if they did approach us, at least they kept at a distance regrettable
from the hunter's standpoint. Several times I saw Captain Nemo stop
and take aim with his rifle; then, after sighting down its barrel
for a few seconds, he would straighten up and resume his walk.
Finally, at around four o'clock, this marvelous excursion came to an end.
A wall of superb rocks stood before us, imposing in its sheer mass:
a pile of gigantic stone blocks, an enormous granite cliffside pitted
with dark caves but not offering a single gradient we could climb up.
This was the underpinning of Crespo Island. This was land.
The captain stopped suddenly. A gesture from him brought us to a halt,
and however much I wanted to clear this wall, I had to stop.
Here ended the domains of Captain Nemo. He had no desire to pass
beyond them. Farther on lay a part of the globe he would no
longer tread underfoot.
Our return journey began. Captain Nemo resumed the lead
in our little band, always heading forward without hesitation.
I noted that we didn't follow the same path in returning to
the Nautilus. This new route, very steep and hence very arduous,
quickly took us close to the surface of the sea. But this
return to the upper strata wasn't so sudden that decompression
took place too quickly, which could have led to serious organic
disorders and given us those internal injuries so fatal to divers.
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