Captain Nemo placed himself under a dark gallery, where by a slight declivity we reached a depth of a hundred yards.

The light from our lamps produced sometimes magical effects, following the rough outlines of the natural arches and pendants disposed like lustres, that were tipped with points of fire.
At last, after walking two hours, we had attained a depth of about three hundred yards, that is to say, the extreme limit on which coral begins to form.

But there was no isolated bush, nor modest brushwood, at the bottom of lofty trees.

It was an immense forest of large mineral vegetations, enormous petrified trees, united by garlands of elegant sea-bindweed, all adorned with clouds and reflections.

We passed freely under their high branches, lost in the shade of the waves.
Captain Nemo had stopped.