I directed my steps to the central staircase, and mounted the platform.
It was six o'clock, the weather was cloudy, the sea grey, but calm.
Scarcely a billow.

Captain Nemo, whom I hoped to meet, would he be there?
I saw no one but the steersman imprisoned in his glass cage.
Seated upon the projection formed by the hull of the pinnace, I inhaled the salt breeze with delight.
By degrees the fog disappeared under the action of the sun's rays, the radiant orb rose from behind the eastern horizon.

The sea flamed under its glance like a train of gunpowder.

The clouds scattered in the heights were coloured with lively tints of beautiful shades, and numerous "mare's tails," which betokened wind for that day.

But what was wind to this Nautilus, which tempests could not frighten! I was admiring this joyous rising of the sun, so gay, and so life-giving, when I heard steps approaching the platform.