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<!DOCTYPE html>
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<h2>Contents</h2>
<h3>PART ONE</h3>
<ol>
<li><a href="index.html">A SHIFTING REEF</a></li>
<li><a href="chapter2.html">PRO AND CON</a></li>
<li><a href="chapter3.html" class="active">I FORM MY RESOLUTION</a></li>
<li><a href="chapter4.html">NED LAND</a></li>
<li><a href="chapter5.html">AT A VENTURE</a></li>
<li><a href="chapter6.html">AT FULL STEAM</a></li>
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<h3>PART TWO</h3>
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<li><a href="final.html">THE INDIAN OCEAN</a></li>
<li><a href="final.html">A NOVEL PROPOSAL</a></li>
<li><a href="final.html">A PEARL OF TEN MIL.</a></li>
<li><a href="final.html">THE RED SEA</a></li>
<li><a href="final.html">THE ARABIAN TUNNEL</a></li>
<li><a href="final.html">THE GRECIAN ARCHI.</a></li>
<li><a href="conclusion.html">CONCLUSION</a></li>
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<h1>Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea</h1>
<em>by</em>
<h2>Jules Verne</h2>
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<h3>Part One</h3>
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<span class="number">CHAPTER III</span>
<span class="name">I FORM MY RESOLUTION</span>
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<div class="prose">Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobsons letter, I no more thought of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the North Sea. Three seconds after reading the letter of the honourable Secretary of Marine, I felt that my true vocation, the sole end of my life, was to chase this disturbing monster, and purge it from the world.
But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary and longing for repose. I aspired to nothing more than again seeing my country, my friends, my little lodging by the Jardin des Plantes, my dear and precious collections. But nothing could keep me back! I forgot all鈥攆atigue, friends and collections鈥攁nd accepted without hesitation the offer of the American Government.
Besides, thought I, all roads lead back to Europe (for my particular benefit), and I will not hurry me towards the coast of France. This worthy animal may allow itself to be caught in the seas of Europe (for my particular benefit), and I will not bring back less than half a yard of his ivory halberd to the Museum of Natural History. But in the meanwhile I must seek this narwhal in the North Pacific Ocean, which, to return to France, was taking the road to the antipodes.</div>
<div class="prose">Conseil was my servant, a true, devoted Flemish boy, who had accompanied me in all my travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking well. He was phlegmatic by nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit, evincing little disturbance at the different surprises of life, very quick with his hands, and apt at any service required of him; and, despite his name, never giving advice鈥攅ven when asked for it.
Conseil had followed me for the last ten years wherever science led. Never once did he complain of the length or fatigue of a journey, never make an objection to pack his portmanteau for whatever country it might be, or however far away, whether China or Congo. Besides all this, he had good health, which defied all sickness, and solid muscles, but no nerves; good morals are understood. This boy was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master as fifteen to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years old?
But Conseil had one fault. He was ceremonious to a degree, and would never speak to me but in the third person, which was sometimes provoking.</div>
<div class="prose">The quay of Brooklyn, and all that part of New York bordering on the East River, was crowded with spectators. Three cheers burst successively from five hundred thousand throats; thousands of handkerchiefs were waved above the heads of the compact mass, saluting the Abraham Lincoln, until she reached the waters of the Hudson, at the point of that elongated peninsula which forms the town of New York. Then the frigate, following the coast of New Jersey along the right bank of the beautiful river, covered with villas, passed between the forts, which saluted her with their heaviest guns. The Abraham Lincoln answered by hoisting the American colours three times, whose thirty-nine stars shone resplendent from the mizzen-peak; then modifying its speed to take the narrow channel marked by buoys placed in the inner bay formed by Sandy Hook Point, it coasted the long sandy beach, where some thousands of spectators gave it one final cheer. The escort of boats and tenders still followed the frigate, and did not leave her until they came abreast of the lightship, whose two lights marked the entrance of New York Channel.
Six bells struck, the pilot got into his boat, and rejoined the little schooner which was waiting under our lee, the fires were made up, the screw beat the waves more rapidly, the frigate skirted the low yellow coast of Long Island; and at eight bells, after having lost sight in the north-west of the lights of Fire Island, she ran at full steam on to the dark waters of the Atlantic.</div>
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