SECOND PART
CHAPTER 9: A Lost Continent
(continued)
What was this astounding world that I didn't yet know?
In what order did these articulates belong, these creatures
for which the rocks provided a second carapace? Where had nature
learned the secret of their vegetating existence, and for how many
centuries had they lived in the ocean's lower strata?
But I couldn't linger. Captain Nemo, on familiar terms with
these dreadful animals, no longer minded them. We arrived at a
preliminary plateau where still other surprises were waiting for me.
There picturesque ruins took shape, betraying the hand of man,
not our Creator. They were huge stacks of stones in which you
could distinguish the indistinct forms of palaces and temples,
now arrayed in hosts of blossoming zoophytes, and over it all,
not ivy but a heavy mantle of algae and fucus plants.
But what part of the globe could this be, this land swallowed
by cataclysms? Who had set up these rocks and stones like the dolmens
of prehistoric times? Where was I, where had Captain Nemo's
fancies taken me?
I wanted to ask him. Unable to, I stopped him. I seized his arm.
But he shook his head, pointed to the mountain's topmost peak,
and seemed to tell me:
"Come on! Come with me! Come higher!"
I followed him with one last burst of energy, and in a few
minutes I had scaled the peak, which crowned the whole rocky mass
by some ten meters.
I looked back down the side we had just cleared. There the mountain rose
only 700 to 800 feet above the plains; but on its far slope it crowned
the receding bottom of this part of the Atlantic by a height twice that.
My eyes scanned the distance and took in a vast area lit by intense
flashes of light. In essence, this mountain was a volcano.
Fifty feet below its peak, amid a shower of stones and slag,
a wide crater vomited torrents of lava that were dispersed in
fiery cascades into the heart of the liquid mass. So situated,
this volcano was an immense torch that lit up the lower plains
all the way to the horizon.
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