Free The Crystal City Under the Sea by André Laurie

Replied; ‘Thanks; but leave me to explore the country.’
    “The floor of my cabin is horizontal, proving that the diving-bell has grounded on a flat surface. Indeed, the electric light dispersed to right and left, and before and behind, reveals a bed of sand and calcareous débris. Everything is dead, bleached, and motionless. Nothing in the least resembling nursery tales or poets’ songs. Nothing could be less like the famous dream of Clarence.
    “‘Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
    A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
    Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
    Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
    All scattered at the bottom of the sea:
    Some lay in dead men’s skulls.’ 1
    “No skull, and not the ghost of a pearl here! Nothing, alas, to tell of the neighbourhood of a human being! Nothing but the impalpable dust of molluscs of past ages. What matter? Now is the time for me to try the tentacles of my diving-bell, and to prove their superiority over the greased plummet of former soundings. They are a little short, these india-rubber arms of mine! It is with great difficulty that I have been able to pick up a handful of débris. Débris which the impermeable glove has faithfully brought me, notwithstanding; and which I have succeeded in bringing into the cabin by turning the sleeve or huge finger, and shutting it by means of its obturators, which I provided for detaching the glove and warehousing the collection, nothing worth picking up after all, except as a specimen of what can be gathered by a human hand at a depth of twenty-eight hundred feet, and to provide a month’s work for Monte Cristo’s microscope. Improvement suggested: lengthen the india-rubber arms of my diving-bell, and provide them with elementary tools, spade, hammer, and pincers, to be attached to the outside wall of the diving-bell. Sounds in the telephone: ‘Halloo! halloo!’ What do these worthy people want? Monte Cristo appears to be getting impatient, and wondering if I am dead. ‘Not yet! I am going to give the order, presently, to be drawn up: “Time to take a few more notes. Respirable air without appreciable change; oxygen in plenty; thermometer risen two degrees and three-tenths. Atmospheric pressure stationary since the start. Come! decisive experience has been gained; the only thing, now; is to go back on board, and make another attempt another day.
    “12.57. ‘Halloo! halloo!’ Sh—The order is given to draw up. Sh — We are tripping anchor. We are shaken a little bit, but nothing to speak of; the bottom of my cabin emerges from its bed of sand; then a continued noise of water swishing past the walls of the diving-bell, which rises and rises, while the needle goes back on the dial, instead of stopping, by reason of our speed of fifty yards per minute. Telephoned; ‘All right! but increase the pace a little.’ It is going now at eighty yards a minute. The needle points at six hundred and fifty.
    “1.13. A noise of dripping on all sides. A cheer from the crew. Here I am again, lifted up in sixteen minutes. I have nothing to do but draw the bolt and jump on deck.”

CHAPTER VIII
THE DIVING BELL.

    T HE crew of the Cinderella welcomed the return of the audacious explorer with enthusiastic joy. During his short sojourn on board the yacht, René had made himself liked by all; and workmen and sailors had awaited with keen anxiety the result of the hazardous experiment. Monte Cristo, himself, had felt his princely heart beat rather more quickly as the intrepid officer disappeared in the abyss. Therefore, he felt sincere emotion on seeing him come back; he ran to him and pressed him in his arms. “Champagne for everybody to drink M. Caoudal’s health!” he said to Sacripanti, who bowed and obeyed the order without delay. “ And you, my dear hero, must be famished, I ‘m sure.”
    “You are right; I am voraciously hungry,” replied the lieutenant; “but that is between ourselves, however. I could never