They thus explored all the submarine plain, deceived at every instant by optical delusions which cut them to the heart. Here a rock, there a swelling of the ground, looked to them like the much-sought-for projectile; then they would soon find out their error and despair again.
"Where are they? Where can they be?" cried J.T. Maston.
And the poor man called aloud to Nicholl, Barbicane, and Michel Ardan, as if his unfortunate friends could have heard him through that impenetrable medium!
The search went on under those conditions until the vitiated state of the air in the apparatus forced the divers to go up again.
The hauling in was begun at 6 p.m., and was not terminated before midnight.
"We will try again to-morrow," said J.T. Maston as he stepped on to the deck of the corvette.
"Yes," answered Captain Blomsberry.
"And in another place."
"Yes."
J.T. Maston did not yet doubt of his ultimate success, but his companions, who were no longer intoxicated with the animation of the first few hours, already took in all the difficulties of the enterprise. What seemed easy at San Francisco in open ocean appeared almost impossible. The chances of success diminished in a large proportion, and it was to chance alone that the finding of the projectile had to be left.