Jules Verne. 20000 leagues under the sea
Jules Verne. 20000 leagues under the sea (1868).
Жюль Верн. 20000 лье под водой.
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Date: 18.09.2002
*PART ONE*
Chapter I. A SHIFTING REEF
The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and
puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten. Not to
mention rumours which agitated the maritime population and excited the
public mind, even in the interior of continents, seafaring men were
particularly excited. Merchants, common sailors, captains of vessels,
skippers, both of Europe and America, naval officers of all countries, and
the Governments of several States on the two continents, were deeply
interested in the matter.
For some time past vessels had been met by "an enormous thing," a long
object, spindle-shaped, occasionally phosphorescent, and infinitely larger
and more rapid in its movements than a whale.
The facts relating to this apparition (entered in various log-books)
agreed in most respects as to the shape of the object or creature in
question, the untiring rapidity of its movements, its surprising power of
locomotion, and the peculiar life with which it seemed endowed. If it was
a whale, it surpassed in size all those hitherto classified in science.
Taking into consideration the mean of observations made at divers times-
rejecting the timid estimate of those who assigned to this object a length
of two hundred feet, equally with the exaggerated opinions which set it
down as a mile in width and three in length-we might fairly conclude that
this mysterious being surpassed greatly all dimensions admitted by the
learned ones of the day, if it existed at all. And that it DID exist was
an undeniable fact; and, with that tendency which disposes the human mind
in favour of the marvellous, we can understand the excitement produced in
the entire world by this supernatural apparition. As to classing it in the
list of fables, the idea was out of the question.
On the 20th of July, 1866, the steamer Governor Higginson, of the
Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, had met this moving mass
five miles off the east coast of Australia. Captain Baker thought at first
that he was in the presence of an unknown sandbank; he even prepared to
determine its exact position when two columns of water, projected by the
mysterious object, shot with a hissing noise a hundred and fifty feet up
into the air. Now, unless the sandbank had been submitted to the
intermittent eruption of a geyser, the Governor Higginson had to do
neither more nor less than with an aquatic mammal, unknown till then,
which threw up from its blow-holes columns of water mixed with air and
vapour.
Similar facts were observed on the 23rd of July in the same year, in
the Pacific Ocean, by the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific Steam
Navigation Company. But this extraordinary creature could transport itself
from one place to another with surprising velocity; as, in an interval of
three days, the Governor Higginson and the Columbus had observed it at two
different points of the chart, separated by a distance of more than seven
hundred nautical leagues.
Fifteen days later, two thousand miles farther off, the Helvetia, of
the Compagnie-Nationale, and the Shannon, of the Royal Mail Steamship
Company, sailing to windward in that portion of the Atlantic lying between
the United States and Europe, respectively signalled the monster to each
other in 42O 15' N. lat. and 60O 35' W. long. In these simultaneous
observations they thought themselves justified in estimating the minimum
length of the mammal at more than three hundred and fifty feet, as the
Shannon and Helvetia were of smaller dimensions than it, though they
measured three hundred feet over all.
Now the largest whales, those which frequent those parts of the sea
round the Aleutian, Kulammak, and Umgullich islands, have never exceeded
the length of sixty yards, if they attain that.
In every place of great resort the monster was the fashion. They sang
of it in the cafes, ridiculed it in the papers, and represented it on the
stage. All kinds of stories were circulated regarding it. There appeared
in the papers caricatures of every gigantic and imaginary creature, from
the white whale, the terrible "Moby Dick" of sub-arctic regions, to the
immense kraken, whose tentacles could entangle a ship of five hundred tons
and hurry it into the abyss of the ocean. The legends of ancient times
were even revived.
Then burst forth the unending argument between the believers and the
unbelievers in the societies of the wise and the scientific journals. "The
question of the monster" inflamed all minds. Editors of scientific
journals, quarrelling with believers in the supernatural, spilled seas of
ink during this memorable campaign, some even drawing blood; for from the
sea-serpent they came to direct personalities.
During the first months of the year 1867 the question seemed buried,
never to revive, when new facts were brought before the public. It was
then no longer a scientific problem to be solved, but a real danger
seriously to be avoided. The question took quite another shape. The
monster became a small island, a rock, a reef, but a reef of indefinite
and shifting proportions.
On the 5th of March, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company,
finding herself during the night in 27O 30' lat. and 72O 15' long., struck
on her starboard quarter a rock, marked in no chart for that part of the
sea. Under the combined efforts of the wind and its four hundred horse
power, it was going at the rate of thirteen knots. Had it not been for the
superior strength of the hull of the Moravian, she would have been broken
by the shock and gone down with the 237 passengers she was bringing home
from Canada.
The accident happened about five o'clock in the morning, as the day was
breaking. The officers of the quarter-deck hurried to the after-part of
the vessel. They examined the sea with the most careful attention. They
saw nothing but a strong eddy about three cables' length distant, as if
the surface had been violently agitated. The bearings of the place were
taken exactly, and the Moravian continued its route without apparent
damage. Had it struck on a submerged rock, or on an enormous wreck? They
could not tell; but, on examination of the ship's bottom when undergoing
repairs, it was found that part of her keel was broken.
This fact, so grave in itself, might perhaps have been forgotten like
many others if, three weeks after, it had not been re-enacted under
similar circumstances. But, thanks to the nationality of the victim of the
shock, thanks to the reputation of the company to which the vessel
belonged, the circumstance became extensively circulated.
The 13th of April, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the breeze
favourable, the Scotia, of the Cunard Company's line, found herself in 15O
12' long. and 45O 37' lat. She was going at the speed of thirteen knots
and a half.
At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, whilst the passengers
were assembled at lunch in the great saloon, a slight shock was felt on
the hull of the Scotia, on her quarter, a little aft of the port-paddle.
The Scotia had not struck, but she had been struck, and seemingly by
something rather sharp and penetrating than blunt. The shock had been so
slight that no one had been alarmed, had it not been for the shouts of the
carpenter's watch, who rushed on to the bridge, exclaiming, "We are
sinking! we are sinking!" At first the passengers were much frightened,
but Captain Anderson hastened to reassure them. The danger could not be
imminent. The Scotia, divided into seven compartments by strong
partitions, could brave with impunity any leak. Captain Anderson went down
immediately into the hold. He found that the sea was pouring into the
fifth compartment; and the rapidity of the influx proved that the force of
the water was considerable. Fortunately this compartment did not hold the
boilers, or the fires would have been immediately extinguished. Captain
Anderson ordered the engines to be stopped at once, and one of the men
went down to ascertain the extent of the injury. Some minutes afterwards
they discovered the existence of a large hole, two yards in diameter, in
the ship's bottom. Such a leak could not be stopped; and the Scotia, her
paddles half submerged, was obliged to continue her course. She was then
three hundred miles from Cape Clear, and, after three days' delay, which
caused great uneasiness in Liverpool, she entered the basin of the
company.
The engineers visited the Scotia, which was put in dry dock. They could
scarcely believe it possible; at two yards and a half below water-mark was
a regular rent, in the form of an isosceles triangle. The broken place in
the iron plates was so perfectly defined that it could not have been more
neatly done by a punch. It was clear, then, that the instrument producing
the perforation was not of a common stamp and, after having been driven
with prodigious strength, and piercing an iron plate 1 3/8 inches thick,
had withdrawn itself by a backward motion.
Such was the last fact, which resulted in exciting once more the
torrent of public opinion. From this moment all unlucky casualties which
could not be otherwise accounted for were put down to the monster.
Upon this imaginary creature rested the responsibility of all these
shipwrecks, which unfortunately were considerable; for of three thousand
ships whose loss was annually recorded at Lloyd's, the number of sailing
and steam-ships supposed to be totally lost, from the absence of all news,
amounted to not less than two hundred!
Now, it was the "monster" who, justly or unjustly, was accused of their
disappearance, and, thanks to it, communication between the different
continents became more and more dangerous. The public demanded sharply
that the seas should at any price be relieved from this formidable
cetacean. [1]
[1] Member of the whale family.
Chapter II. PRO AND CON
At the period when these events took place, I had just returned from a
scientific research in the disagreeable territory of Nebraska, in the
United States. In virtue of my office as Assistant Professor in the Museum
of Natural History in Paris, the French Government had attached me to that
expedition. After six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York towards
the end of March, laden with a precious collection. My departure for
France was fixed for the first days in May. Meanwhile I was occupying
myself in classifying my mineralogical, botanical, and zoological riches,
when the accident happened to the Scotia.
I was perfectly up in the subject which was the question of the day.
How could I be otherwise? I had read and reread all the American and
European papers without being any nearer a conclusion. This mystery
puzzled me. Under the impossibility of forming an opinion, I jumped from
one extreme to the other. That there really was something could not be
doubted, and the incredulous were invited to put their finger on the wound
of the Scotia.
On my arrival at New York the question was at its height. The theory of
the floating island, and the unapproachable sandbank, supported by minds
little competent to form a judgment, was abandoned. And, indeed, unless
this shoal had a machine in its stomach, how could it change its position
with such astonishing rapidity?
From the same cause, the idea of a floating hull of an enormous wreck
was given up.
There remained, then, only two possible solutions of the question,
which created two distinct parties: on one side, those who were for a
monster of colossal strength; on the other, those who were for a submarine
vessel of enormous motive power.
But this last theory, plausible as it was, could not stand against
inquiries made in both worlds. That a private gentleman should have such a
machine at his command was not likely. Where, when, and how was it built?
and how could its construction have been kept secret? Certainly a
Government might possess such a destructive machine. And in these
disastrous times, when the ingenuity of man has multiplied the power of
weapons of war, it was possible that, without the knowledge of others, a
State might try to work such a formidable engine.
But the idea of a war machine fell before the declaration of
Governments. As public interest was in question, and transatlantic
communications suffered, their veracity could not be doubted. But how
admit that the construction of this submarine boat had escaped the public
eye? For a private gentleman to keep the secret under such circumstances
would be very difficult, and for a State whose every act is persistently
watched by powerful rivals, certainly impossible.
Upon my arrival in New York several persons did me the honour of
consulting me on the phenomenon in question. I had published in France a
work in quarto, in two volumes, entitled Mysteries of the Great Submarine
Grounds. This book, highly approved of in the learned world, gained for me
a special reputation in this rather obscure branch of Natural History. My
advice was asked. As long as I could deny the reality of the fact, I
confined myself to a decided negative. But soon, finding myself driven
into a corner, I was obliged to explain myself point by point. I discussed
the question in all its forms, politically and scientifically; and I give
here an extract from a carefully-studied article which I published in the
number of the 30th of April. It ran as follows:
"After examining one by one the different theories, rejecting all other
suggestions, it becomes necessary to admit the existence of a marine
animal of enormous power".
"The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us. Soundings
cannot reach them. What passes in those remote depths- what beings live,
or can live, twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the
waters-what is the organisation of these animals, we can scarcely
conjecture. However, the solution of the problem submitted to me may
modify the form of the dilemma. Either we do know all the varieties of
beings which people our planet, or we do not. If we do NOT know them
all-if Nature has still secrets in the deeps for us, nothing is more
conformable to reason than to admit the existence of fishes, or cetaceans
of other kinds, or even of new species, of an organisation formed to
inhabit the strata inaccessible to soundings, and which an accident of
some sort has brought at long intervals to the upper level of the ocean.
"If, on the contrary, we DO know all living kinds, we must necessarily
seek for the animal in question amongst those marine beings already
classed; and, in that case, I should be disposed to admit the existence of
a gigantic narwhal".
"The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, often attains a length of
sixty feet. Increase its size fivefold or tenfold, give it strength
proportionate to its size, lengthen its destructive weapons, and you
obtain the animal required. It will have the proportions determined by the
officers of the Shannon, the instrument required by the perforation of the
Scotia, and the power necessary to pierce the hull of the steamer.
"Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword, a halberd,
according to the expression of certain naturalists. The principal tusk has
the hardness of steel. Some of these tusks have been found buried in the
bodies of whales, which the unicorn always attacks with success. Others
have been drawn out, not without trouble, from the bottoms of ships, which
they had pierced through and through, as a gimlet pierces a barrel. The
Museum of the Faculty of Medicine of Paris possesses one of these
defensive weapons, two yards and a quarter in length, and fifteen inches
in diameter at the base.
"Very well! suppose this weapon to be six times stronger and the animal
ten times more powerful; launch it at the rate of twenty miles an hour,
and you obtain a shock capable of producing the catastrophe required.
Until further information, therefore, I shall maintain it to be a
sea-unicorn of colossal dimensions, armed not with a halberd, but with a
real spur, as the armoured frigates, or the `rams' of war, whose
massiveness and motive power it would possess at the same time. Thus may
this puzzling phenomenon be explained, unless there be something over and
above all that one has ever conjectured, seen, perceived, or experienced;
which is just within the bounds of possibility."
These last words were cowardly on my part; but, up to a certain point,
I wished to shelter my dignity as professor, and not give too much cause
for laughter to the Americans, who laugh well when they do laugh. I
reserved for myself a way of escape. In effect, however, I admitted the
existence of the "monster." My article was warmly discussed, which
procured it a high reputation. It rallied round it a certain number of
partisans. The solution it proposed gave, at least, full liberty to the
imagination. The human mind delights in grand conceptions of supernatural
beings. And the sea is precisely their best vehicle, the only medium
through which these giants (against which terrestrial animals, such as
elephants or rhinoceroses, are as nothing) can be produced or developed.
The industrial and commercial papers treated the question chiefly from
this point of view. The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd's List,
the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime and Colonial Review, all papers devoted
to insurance companies which threatened to raise their rates of premium,
were unanimous on this point. Public opinion had been pronounced. The
United States were the first in the field; and in New York they made
preparations for an expedition destined to pursue this narwhal. A frigate
of great speed, the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission as soon as
possible. The arsenals were opened to Commander Farragut, who hastened the
arming of his frigate; but, as it always happens, the moment it was
decided to pursue the monster, the monster did not appear. For two months
no one heard it spoken of. No ship met with it. It seemed as if this
unicorn knew of the plots weaving around it. It had been so much talked
of, even through the Atlantic cable, that jesters pretended that this
slender fly had stopped a telegram on its passage and was making the most
of it.
So when the frigate had been armed for a long campaign, and provided
with formidable fishing apparatus, no one could tell what course to
pursue. Impatience grew apace, when, on the 2nd of July, they learned that
a steamer of the line of San Francisco, from California to Shanghai, had
seen the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean. The
excitement caused by this news was extreme. The ship was revictualled and
well stocked with coal.
Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn pier, I received a
letter worded as follows:
To M. ARONNAX, Professor in the Museum of Paris, Fifth Avenue Hotel,
New York.
SIR,-If you will consent to join the Abraham Lincoln in this
expedition, the Government of the United States will with pleasure see
France represented in the enterprise. Commander Farragut has a cabin at
your disposal.
Very cordially yours, J.B. HOBSON, Secretary of Marine.
Chapter III. I FORM MY RESOLUTION
Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson's 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-fatigue, friends
and collections-and accepted without hesitation the offer of the American
Government.
"Besides," thought I, "all roads lead back to Europe; and the unicorn
may be amiable enough to 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.
"Conseil," I called in an impatient voice.
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 quiet 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-even 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.
"Conseil," said I again, beginning with feverish hands to make
preparations for my departure.
Certainly I was sure of this devoted boy. As a rule, I never asked him
if it were convenient for him or not to follow me in my travels; but this
time the expedition in question might be prolonged, and the enterprise
might be hazardous in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate as
easily as a nutshell. Here there was matter for reflection even to the
most impassive man in the world. What would Conseil say?
"Conseil," I called a third time.
Conseil appeared.
"Did you call, sir?" said he, entering.
"Yes, my boy; make preparations for me and yourself too. We leave in
two hours."
"As you please, sir," replied Conseil, quietly.
"Not an instant to lose; lock in my trunk all travelling utensils,
coats, shirts, and stockings-without counting, as many as you can, and
make haste."
"And your collections, sir?" observed Conseil.
"They will keep them at the hotel."
"We are not returning to Paris, then?" said Conseil.
"Oh! certainly," I answered, evasively, "by making a curve."
"Will the curve please you, sir?"
"Oh! it will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that is all. We
take our passage in the Abraham, Lincoln."
"As you think proper, sir," coolly replied Conseil.
"You see, my friend, it has to do with the monster- the famous narwhal.
We are going to purge it from the seas. A glorious mission, but a
dangerous one! We cannot tell where we may go; these animals can be very
capricious. But we will go whether or no; we have got a captain who is
pretty wide-awake."
Our luggage was transported to the deck of the frigate immediately. I
hastened on board and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors
conducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a
good-looking officer, who held out his hand to me.
"Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?" said he.
"Himself," replied I. "Commander Farragut?"
"You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you."
I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined for me.
The Abraham Lincoln had been well chosen and equipped for her new
destination. She was a frigate of great speed, fitted with high-pressure
engines which admitted a pressure of seven atmospheres. Under this the
Abraham Lincoln attained the mean speed of nearly eighteen knots and a
third an hour- a considerable speed, but, nevertheless, insufficient to
grapple with this gigantic cetacean.
The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to its nautical
qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the after
part, opening upon the gunroom.
"We shall be well off here," said I to Conseil.
"As well, by your honour's leave, as a hermit-crab in the shell of a
whelk," said Conseil.
I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and remounted the
poop in order to survey the preparations for departure.
At that moment Commander Farragut was ordering the last moorings to be
cast loose which held the Abraham Lincoln to the pier of Brooklyn. So in a
quarter of an hour, perhaps less, the frigate would have sailed without
me. I should have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and incredible
expedition, the recital of which may well meet with some suspicion.
But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in scouring the
seas in which the animal had been sighted. He sent for the engineer.
"Is the steam full on?" asked he.
"Yes, sir," replied the engineer.
"Go ahead," cried Commander Farragut.
Chapter IV. NED LAND
Captain Farragut was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he commanded.
His vessel and he were one. He was the soul of it. On the question of the
monster there was no doubt in his mind, and he would not allow the
existence of the animal to be disputed on board. He believed in it, as
certain good women believe in the leviathan-by faith, not by reason. The
monster did exist, and he had sworn to rid the seas of it. Either Captain
Farragut would kill the narwhal, or the narwhal would kill the captain.
There was no third course.
The officers on board shared the opinion of their chief. They were ever
chatting, discussing, and calculating the various chances of a meeting,
watching narrowly the vast surface of the ocean. More than one took up his
quarters voluntarily in the cross-trees, who would have cursed such a
berth under any other circumstances. As long as the sun described its
daily course, the rigging was crowded with sailors, whose feet were burnt
to such an extent by the heat of the deck as to render it unbearable;
still the Abraham Lincoln had not yet breasted the suspected waters of the
Pacific. As to the ship's company, they desired nothing better than to
meet the unicorn, to harpoon it, hoist it on board, and despatch it. They
watched the sea with eager attention.
Besides, Captain Farragut had spoken of a certain sum of two thousand
dollars, set apart for whoever should first sight the monster, were he
cabin-boy, common seaman, or officer.
I leave you to judge how eyes were used on board the Abraham Lincoln.
For my own part I was not behind the others, and, left to no one my
share of daily observations. The frigate might have been called the Argus,
for a hundred reasons. Only one amongst us, Conseil, seemed to protest by
his indifference against the question which so interested us all, and
seemed to be out of keeping with the general enthusiasm on board.
I have said that Captain Farragut had carefully provided his ship with
every apparatus for catching the gigantic cetacean. No whaler had ever
been better armed. We possessed every known engine, from the harpoon
thrown by the hand to the barbed arrows of the blunderbuss, and the
explosive balls of the duck-gun. On the forecastle lay the perfection of a
breech-loading gun, very thick at the breech, and very narrow in the bore,
the model of which had been in the Exhibition of 1867. This precious
weapon of American origin could throw with ease a conical projectile of
nine pounds to a mean distance of ten miles.
Thus the Abraham Lincoln wanted for no means of destruction; and, what
was better still she had on board Ned Land, the prince of harpooners.
Ned Land was a Canadian, with an uncommon quickness of hand, and who
knew no equal in his dangerous occupation. Skill, coolness, audacity, and
cunning he possessed in a superior degree, and it must be a cunning whale
to escape the stroke of his harpoon.
Ned Land was about forty years of age; he was a tall man (more than six
feet high), strongly built, grave and taciturn, occasionally violent, and
very passionate when contradicted. His person attracted attention, but
above all the boldness of his look, which gave a singular expression to
his face.
Who calls himself Canadian calls himself French; and, little
communicative as Ned Land was, I must admit that he took a certain liking
for me. My nationality drew him to me, no doubt. It was an opportunity for
him to talk, and for me to hear, that old language of Rabelais, which is
still in use in some Canadian provinces. The harpooner's family was
originally from Quebec, and was already a tribe of hardy fishermen when
this town belonged to France.
Little by little, Ned Land acquired a taste for chatting, and I loved
to hear the recital of his adventures in the polar seas. He related his
fishing, and his combats, with natural poetry of expression; his recital
took the form of an epic poem, and I seemed to be listening to a Canadian
Homer singing the Iliad of the regions of the North.
I am portraying this hardy companion as I really knew him. We are old
friends now, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and
cemented amidst extreme dangers. Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live
a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on
your memory.
Now, what was Ned Land's opinion upon the question of the marine
monster? I must admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was the
only one on board who did not share that universal conviction. He even
avoided the subject, which I one day thought it my duty to press upon him.
One magnificent evening, the 30th July (that is to say, three weeks after
our departure), the frigate was abreast of Cape Blanc, thirty miles to
leeward of the coast of Patagonia. We had crossed the tropic of Capricorn,
and the Straits of Magellan opened less than seven hundred miles to the
south. Before eight days were over the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing
the waters of the Pacific.
Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were chatting of one thing and
another as we looked at this mysterious sea, whose great depths had up to
this time been inaccessible to the eye of man. I naturally led up the
conversation to the giant unicorn, and examined the various chances of
success or failure of the expedition. But, seeing that Ned Land let me
speak without saying too much himself, I pressed him more closely.
"Well, Ned," said I, "is it possible that you are not convinced of the
existence of this cetacean that we are following? Have you any particular
reason for being so incredulous?"
The harpooner looked at me fixedly for some moments before answering,
struck his broad forehead with his hand (a habit of his), as if to collect
himself, and said at last, "Perhaps I have, Mr. Aronnax."
"But, Ned, you, a whaler by profession, familiarised with all the great
marine mammalia-YOU ought to be the last to doubt under such
circumstances!"
"That is just what deceives you, Professor," replied Ned. "As a whaler
I have followed many a cetacean, harpooned a great number, and killed
several; but, however strong or well-armed they may have been, neither
their tails nor their weapons would have been able even to scratch the
iron plates of a steamer."
"But, Ned, they tell of ships which the teeth of the narwhal have
pierced through and through."
"Wooden ships-that is possible," replied the Canadian, "but I have
never seen it done; and, until further proof, I deny that whales,
cetaceans, or sea-unicorns could ever produce the effect you describe."
"Well, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction resting on the logic of
facts. I believe in the existence of a mammal power fully organised,
belonging to the branch of vertebrata, like the whales, the cachalots, or
the dolphins, and furnished with a horn of defence of great penetrating
power."
"Hum!" said the harpooner, shaking his head with the air of a man who
would not be convinced.
"Notice one thing, my worthy Canadian," I resumed. "If such an animal
is in existence, if it inhabits the depths of the ocean, if it frequents
the strata lying miles below the surface of the water, it must necessarily
possess an organisation the strength of which would defy all comparison."
"And why this powerful organisation?" demanded Ned.
"Because it requires incalculable strength to keep one's self in these
strata and resist their pressure. Listen to me. Let us admit that the
pressure of the atmosphere is represented by the weight of a column of
water thirty-two feet high. In reality the column of water would be
shorter, as we are speaking of sea water, the density of which is greater
than that of fresh water. Very well, when you dive, Ned, as many times 32
feet of water as there are above you, so many times does your body bear a
pressure equal to that of the atmosphere, that is to say, 15 lb. for each
square inch of its surface. It follows, then, that at 320 feet this
pressure equals that of 10 atmospheres, of 100 atmospheres at 3,200 feet,
and of 1,000 atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is, about 6 miles; which is
equivalent to saying that if you could attain this depth in the ocean,
each square three-eighths of an inch of the surface of your body would
bear a pressure of 5,600 lb. Ah! my brave Ned, do you know how many square
inches you carry on the surface of your body?"
"I have no idea, Mr. Aronnax."
"About 6,500; and as in reality the atmospheric pressure is about 15
lb. to the square inch, your 6,500 square inches bear at this moment a
pressure of 97,500 lb."
"Without my perceiving it?"
"Without your perceiving it. And if you are not crushed by such a
pressure, it is because the air penetrates the interior of your body with
equal pressure. Hence perfect equilibrium between the interior and
exterior pressure, which thus neutralise each other, and which allows you
to bear it without inconvenience. But in the water it is another thing."
"Yes, I understand," replied Ned, becoming more attentive; "because the
water surrounds me, but does not penetrate."
"Precisely, Ned: so that at 32 feet beneath the surface of the sea you
would undergo a pressure of 97,500 lb.; at 320 feet, ten times that
pressure; at 3,200 feet, a hundred times that pressure; lastly, at 32,000
feet, a thousand times that pressure would be 97,500,000 lb.-that is to
say, that you would be flattened as if you had been drawn from the plates
of a hydraulic machine!"
"The devil!" exclaimed Ned.
"Very well, my worthy harpooner, if some vertebrate, several hundred
yards long, and large in proportion, can maintain itself in such depths-
of those whose surface is represented by millions of square inches, that
is by tens of millions of pounds, we must estimate the pressure they
undergo. Consider, then, what must be the resistance of their bony
structure, and the strength of their organisation to withstand such
pressure!"
"Why!" exclaimed Ned Land, "they must be made of iron plates eight
inches thick, like the armoured frigates."
"As you say, Ned. And think what destruction such a mass would cause,
if hurled with the speed of an express train against the hull of a
vessel."
"Yes-certainly-perhaps," replied the Canadian, shaken by these figures,
but not yet willing to give in.
"Well, have I convinced you?"
"You have convinced me of one thing, sir, which is that, if such
animals do exist at the bottom of the seas, they must necessarily be as
strong as you say."
"But if they do not exist, mine obstinate harpooner, how explain the
accident to the Scotia?"
Chapter V. AT A VENTURE
The voyage of the Abraham Lincoln was for a long time marked by no
special incident. But one circumstance happened which showed the wonderful
dexterity of Ned Land, and proved what confidence we might place in him.
The 30th of June, the frigate spoke some American whalers, from whom we
learned that they knew nothing about the narwhal. But one of them, the
captain of the Monroe, knowing that Ned Land had shipped on board the
Abraham Lincoln, begged for his help in chasing a whale they had in sight.
Commander Farragut, desirous of seeing Ned Land at work, gave him
permission to go on board the Monroe. And fate served our Canadian so well
that, instead of one whale, he harpooned two with a double blow, striking
one straight to the heart, and catching the other after some minutes'
pursuit.
Decidedly, if the monster ever had to do with Ned Land's harpoon, I
would not bet in its favour.
The frigate skirted the south-east coast of America with great
rapidity. The 3rd of July we were at the opening of the Straits of
Magellan, level with Cape Vierges. But Commander Farragut would not take a
tortuous passage, but doubled Cape Horn.
The ship's crew agreed with him. And certainly it was possible that
they might meet the narwhal in this narrow pass. Many of the sailors
affirmed that the monster could not pass there, "that he was too big for
that!"
The 6th of July, about three o'clock in the afternoon, the Abraham
Lincoln, at fifteen miles to the south, doubled the solitary island, this
lost rock at the extremity of the American continent, to which some Dutch
sailors gave the name of their native town, Cape Horn. The course was
taken towards the north-west, and the next day the screw of the frigate
was at last beating the waters of the Pacific.
"Keep your eyes open!" called out the sailors.
And they were opened widely. Both eyes and glasses, a little dazzled,
it is true, by the prospect of two thousand dollars, had not an instant's
repose.
I myself, for whom money had no charms, was not the least attentive on
board. Giving but few minutes to my meals, but a few hours to sleep,
indifferent to either rain or sunshine, I did not leave the poop of the
vessel. Now leaning on the netting of the forecastle, now on the taffrail,
I devoured with eagerness the soft foam which whitened the sea as far as
the eye could reach; and how often have I shared the emotion of the
majority of the crew, when some capricious whale raised its black back
above the waves! The poop of the vessel was crowded on a moment. The
cabins poured forth a torrent of sailors and officers, each with heaving
breast and troubled eye watching the course of the cetacean. I looked and
looked till I was nearly blind, whilst Conseil kept repeating in a calm
voice:
"If, sir, you would not squint so much, you would see better!"
But vain excitement! The Abraham Lincoln checked its speed and made for
the animal signalled, a simple whale, or common cachalot, which soon
disappeared amidst a storm of abuse.
But the weather was good. The voyage was being accomplished under the
most favourable auspices. It was then the bad season in Australia, the
July of that zone corresponding to our January in Europe, but the sea was
beautiful and easily scanned round a vast circumference.
The 20th of July, the tropic of Capricorn was cut by 105d of longitude,
and the 27th of the same month we crossed the Equator on the 110th
meridian. This passed, the frigate took a more decided westerly direction,
and scoured the central waters of the Pacific. Commander Farragut thought,
and with reason, that it was better to remain in deep water, and keep
clear of continents or islands, which the beast itself seemed to shun
(perhaps because there was not enough water for him! suggested the greater
part of the crew). The frigate passed at some distance from the Marquesas
and the Sandwich Islands, crossed the tropic of Cancer, and made for the
China Seas. We were on the theatre of the last diversions of the monster:
and, to say truth, we no longer LIVED on board. The entire ship's crew
were undergoing a nervous excitement, of which I can give no idea: they
could not eat, they could not sleep-twenty times a day, a misconception or
an optical illusion of some sailor seated on the taffrail, would cause
dreadful perspirations, and these emotions, twenty times repeated, kept us
in a state of excitement so violent that a reaction was unavoidable.
And truly, reaction soon showed itself. For three months, during which
a day seemed an age, the Abraham Lincoln furrowed all the waters of the
Northern Pacific, running at whales, making sharp deviations from her
course, veering suddenly from one tack to another, stopping suddenly,
putting on steam, and backing ever and anon at the risk of deranging her
machinery, and not one point of the Japanese or American coast was left
unexplored.
The warmest partisans of the enterprise now became its most ardent
detractors. Reaction mounted from the crew to the captain himself, and
certainly, had it not been for the resolute determination on the part of
Captain Farragut, the frigate would have headed due southward. This
useless search could not last much longer. The Abraham Lincoln had nothing
to reproach herself with, she had done her best to succeed. Never had an
American ship's crew shown more zeal or patience; its failure could not be
placed to their charge-there remained nothing but to return.
This was represented to the commander. The sailors could not hide their
discontent, and the service suffered. I will not say there was a mutiny on
board, but after a reasonable period of obstinacy, Captain Farragut (as
Columbus did) asked for three days' patience. If in three days the monster
did not appear, the man at the helm should give three turns of the wheel,
and the Abraham Lincoln would make for the European seas.
This promise was made on the 2nd of November. It had the effect of
rallying the ship's crew. The ocean was watched with renewed attention.
Each one wished for a last glance in which to sum up his remembrance.
Glasses were used with feverish activity. It was a grand defiance given to
the giant narwhal, and he could scarcely fail to answer the summons and
"appear."
Two days passed, the steam was at half pressure; a thousand schemes
were tried to attract the attention and stimulate the apathy of the animal
in case it should be met in those parts. Large quantities of bacon were
trailed in the wake of the ship, to the great satisfaction (I must say) of
the sharks. Small craft radiated in all directions round the Abraham
Lincoln as she lay to, and did not leave a spot of the sea unexplored. But
the night of the 4th of November arrived without the unveiling of this
submarine mystery.
The next day, the 5th of November, at twelve, the delay would (morally
speaking) expire; after that time, Commander Farragut, faithful to his
promise, was to turn the course to the south-east and abandon for ever the
northern regions of the Pacific.
The frigate was then in 31O 15' N. lat. and 136O 42' E. long. The coast
of Japan still remained less than two hundred miles to leeward. Night was
approaching. They had just struck eight bells; large clouds veiled the
face of the moon, then in its first quarter. The sea undulated peaceably
under the stern of the vessel.
At that moment I was leaning forward on the starboard netting. Conseil,
standing near me, was looking straight before him. The crew, perched in
the ratlines, examined the horizon which contracted and darkened by
degrees. Officers with their night glasses scoured the growing darkness:
sometimes the ocean sparkled under the rays of the moon, which darted
between two clouds, then all trace of light was lost in the darkness.
In looking at Conseil, I could see he was undergoing a little of the
general influence. At least I thought so. Perhaps for the first time his
nerves vibrated to a sentiment of curiosity.
"Come, Conseil," said I, "this is the last chance of pocketing the two
thousand dollars."
"May I be permitted to say, sir," replied Conseil, "that I never
reckoned on getting the prize; and, had the government of the Union
offered a hundred thousand dollars, it would have been none the poorer."
"You are right, Conseil. It is a foolish affair after all, and one upon
which we entered too lightly. What time lost, what useless emotions! We
should have been back in France six months ago."
"In your little room, sir," replied Conseil, "and in your museum, sir;
and I should have already classed all your fossils, sir. And the
Babiroussa would have been installed in its cage in the Jardin des
Plantes, and have drawn all the curious people of the capital!"
"As you say, Conseil. I fancy we shall run a fair chance of being
laughed at for our pains."
"That's tolerably certain," replied Conseil, quietly; "I think they
will make fun of you, sir. And, must I say it-?"
"Go on, my good friend."
"Well, sir, you will only get your deserts."
"Indeed!"
"When one has the honour of being a savant as you are, sir, one should
not expose one's self to-"
Conseil had not time to finish his compliment. In the midst of general
silence a voice had just been heard. It was the voice of Ned Land
shouting:
"Look out there! The very thing we are looking for - on our weather
beam!"
Chapter VI. AT FULL STEAM
At this cry the whole ship's crew hurried towards the harpooner-
commander, officers, masters, sailors, cabin boys; even the engineers left
their engines, and the stokers their furnaces.
The order to stop her had been given, and the frigate now simply went
on by her own momentum. The darkness was then profound, and, however good
the Canadian's eyes were, I asked myself how he had managed to see, and
what he had been able to see. My heart beat as if it would break. But Ned
Land was not mistaken, and we all perceived the object he pointed to. At
two cables' length from the Abraham Lincoln, on the starboard quarter, the
sea seemed to be illuminated all over. It was not a mere phosphoric
phenomenon. The monster emerged some fathoms from the water, and then
threw out that very intense but mysterious light mentioned in the report
of several captains. This magnificent irradiation must have been produced
by an agent of great SHINING power. The luminous part traced on the sea an
immense oval, much elongated, the centre of which condensed a burning
heat, whose overpowering brilliancy died out by successive gradations.
"It is only a massing of phosphoric particles," cried one of the
officers.
"No, sir, certainly not," I replied. "That brightness is of an
essentially electrical nature. Besides, see, see! it moves; it is moving
forwards, backwards; it is darting towards us!"
A general cry arose from the frigate.
"Silence!" said the captain. "Up with the helm, reverse the engines."
The steam was shut off, and the Abraham Lincoln, beating to port,
described a semicircle.
"Right the helm, go ahead," cried the captain.
These orders were executed, and the frigate moved rapidly from the
burning light.
I was mistaken. She tried to sheer off, but the supernatural animal
approached with a velocity double her own.
We gasped for breath. Stupefaction more than fear made us dumb and
motionless. The animal gained on us, sporting with the waves. It made the
round of the frigate, which was then making fourteen knots, and enveloped
it with its electric rings like luminous dust.
Then it moved away two or three miles, leaving a phosphorescent track,
like those volumes of steam that the express trains leave behind. All at
once from the dark line of the horizon whither it retired to gain its
momentum, the monster rushed suddenly towards the Abraham Lincoln with
alarming rapidity, stopped suddenly about twenty feet from the hull, and
died out-not diving under the water, for its brilliancy did not abate-but
suddenly, and as if the source of this brilliant emanation was exhausted.
Then it reappeared on the other side of the vessel, as if it had turned
and slid under the hull. Any moment a collision might have occurred which
would have been fatal to us. However, I was astonished at the manoeuvres
of the frigate. She fled and did not attack.
On the captain's face, generally so impassive, was an expression of
unaccountable astonishment.
"Mr. Aronnax," he said, "I do not know with what formidable being I
have to deal, and I will not imprudently risk my frigate in the midst of
this darkness. Besides, how attack this unknown thing, how defend one's
self from it? Wait for daylight, and the scene will change."
"You have no further doubt, captain, of the nature of the animal?"
"No, sir; it is evidently a gigantic narwhal, and an electric one."
"Perhaps," added I, "one can only approach it with a torpedo."
"Undoubtedly," replied the captain, "if it possesses such dreadful
power, it is the most terrible animal that ever was created. That is why,
sir, I must be on my guard."
The crew were on their feet all night. No one thought of sleep. The
Abraham Lincoln, not being able to struggle with such velocity, had
moderated its pace, and sailed at half speed. For its part, the narwhal,
imitating the frigate, let the waves rock it at will, and seemed decided
not to leave the scene of the struggle. Towards midnight, however, it
disappeared, or, to use a more appropriate term, it "died out" like a
large glow-worm. Had it fled? One could only fear, not hope it. But at
seven minutes to one o'clock in the morning a deafening whistling was
heard, like that produced by a body of water rushing with great violence.
The captain, Ned Land, and I were then on the poop, eagerly peering
through the profound darkness.
"Ned Land," asked the commander, "you have often heard the roaring of
whales?"
"Often, sir; but never such whales the sight of which brought me in two
thousand dollars. If I can only approach within four harpoons' length of
it!"
"But to approach it," said the commander, "I ought to put a whaler at
your disposal?"
"Certainly, sir."
"That will be trifling with the lives of my men."
"And mine too," simply said the harpooner.
Towards two o'clock in the morning, the burning light reappeared, not
less intense, about five miles to windward of the Abraham Lincoln.
Notwithstanding the distance, and the noise of the wind and sea, one heard
distinctly the loud strokes of the animal's tail, and even its panting
breath. It seemed that, at the moment that the enormous narwhal had come
to take breath at the surface of the water, the air was engulfed in its
lungs, like the steam in the vast cylinders of a machine of two thousand
horse-power.
"Hum!" thought I, "a whale with the strength of a cavalry regiment
would be a pretty whale!"
We were on the qui vive till daylight, and prepared for the combat. The
fishing implements were laid along the hammock nettings. The second
lieutenant loaded the blunder busses, which could throw harpoons to the
distance of a mile, and long duck-guns, with explosive bullets, which
inflicted mortal wounds even to the most terrible animals. Ned Land
contented himself with sharpening his harpoon-a terrible weapon in his
hands.
At six o'clock day began to break; and, with the first glimmer of
light, the electric light of the narwhal disappeared. At seven o'clock the
day was sufficiently advanced, but a very thick sea fog obscured our view,
and the best spy glasses could not pierce it. That caused disappointment
and anger.
I climbed the mizzen-mast. Some officers were already perched on the
mast-heads. At eight o'clock the fog lay heavily on the waves, and its
thick scrolls rose little by little. The horizon grew wider and clearer at
the same time. Suddenly, just as on the day before, Ned Land's voice was
heard:
"The thing itself on the port quarter!" cried the harpooner.
Every eye was turned towards the point indicated. There, a mile and a
half from the frigate, a long blackish body emerged a yard above the
waves. Its tail, violently agitated, produced a considerable eddy. Never
did a tail beat the sea with such violence. An immense track, of dazzling
whiteness, marked the passage of the animal, and described a long curve.
The frigate approached the cetacean. I examined it thoroughly.
The reports of the Shannon and of the Helvetia had rather exaggerated
its size, and I estimated its length at only two hundred and fifty feet.
As to its dimensions, I could only conjecture them to be admirably
proportioned. While I watched this phenomenon, two jets of steam and water
were ejected from its vents, and rose to the height of 120 feet; thus I
ascertained its way of breathing. I concluded definitely that it belonged
to the vertebrate branch, class mammalia.
The crew waited impatiently for their chief's orders. The latter, after
having observed the animal attentively, called the engineer. The engineer
ran to him.
"Sir," said the commander, "you have steam up?"
"Yes, sir," answered the engineer.
"Well, make up your fires and put on all steam."
Three hurrahs greeted this order. The time for the struggle had
arrived. Some moments after, the two funnels of the frigate vomited
torrents of black smoke, and the bridge quaked under the trembling of the
boilers.
The Abraham Lincoln, propelled by her wonderful screw, went straight at
the animal. The latter allowed it to come within half a cable's length;
then, as if disdaining to dive, it took a little turn, and stopped a short
distance off.
This pursuit lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, without the
frigate gaining two yards on the cetacean. It was quite evident that at
that rate we should never come up with it.
"Well, Mr. Land," asked the captain, "do you advise me to put the boats
out to sea?"
"No, sir," replied Ned Land; "because we shall not take that beast
easily."
"What shall we do then?"
"Put on more steam if you can, sir. With your leave, I mean to post
myself under the bowsprit, and, if we get within harpooning distance, I
shall throw my harpoon."
"Go, Ned," said the captain. "Engineer, put on more pressure."
Ned Land went to his post. The fires were increased, the screw revolved
forty-three times a minute, and the steam poured out of the valves. We
heaved the log, and calculated that the Abraham Lincoln was going at the
rate of 18 1/2 miles an hour.
But the accursed animal swam at the same speed.
For a whole hour the frigate kept up this pace, without gaining six
feet. It was humiliating for one of the swiftest sailers in the American
navy. A stubborn anger seized the crew; the sailors abused the monster,
who, as before, disdained to answer them; the captain no longer contented
himself with twisting his beard-he gnawed it.
The engineer was called again.
"You have turned full steam on?"
"Yes, sir," replied the engineer.
The speed of the Abraham Lincoln increased. Its masts trembled down to
their stepping holes, and the clouds of smoke could hardly find way out of
the narrow funnels.
They heaved the log a second time.
"Well?" asked the captain of the man at the wheel.
"Nineteen miles and three-tenths, sir."
"Clap on more steam."
The engineer obeyed. The manometer showed ten degrees. But the cetacean
grew warm itself, no doubt; for without straining itself, it made 19 3/10
miles.
What a pursuit! No, I cannot describe the emotion that vibrated through
me. Ned Land kept his post, harpoon in hand. Several times the animal let
us gain upon it.-"We shall catch it! we shall catch it!" cried the
Canadian. But just as he was going to strike, the cetacean stole away with
a rapidity that could not be estimated at less than thirty miles an hour,
and even during our maximum of speed, it bullied the frigate, going round
and round it. A cry of fury broke from everyone!
At noon we were no further advanced than at eight o'clock in the
morning.
The captain then decided to take more direct means.
"Ah!" said he, "that animal goes quicker than the Abraham Lincoln. Very
well! we will see whether it will escape these conical bullets. Send your
men to the forecastle, sir."
The forecastle gun was immediately loaded and slewed round. But the
shot passed some feet above the cetacean, which was half a mile off.
"Another, more to the right," cried the commander, "and five dollars to
whoever will hit that infernal beast."
An old gunner with a grey beard-that I can see now-with steady eye and
grave face, went up to the gun and took a long aim. A loud report was
heard, with which were mingled the cheers of the crew.
The bullet did its work; it hit the animal, and, sliding off the
rounded surface, was lost in two miles depth of sea.
The chase began again, and the captain, leaning towards me, said:
"I will pursue that beast till my frigate bursts up."
"Yes," answered I; "and you will be quite right to do it."
I wished the beast would exhaust itself, and not be insensible to
fatigue like a steam engine. But it was of no use. Hours passed, without
its showing any signs of exhaustion.
However, it must be said in praise of the Abraham Lincoln that she
struggled on indefatigably. I cannot reckon the distance she made under
three hundred miles during this unlucky day, November the 6th. But night
came on, and overshadowed the rough ocean.
Now I thought our expedition was at an end, and that we should never
again see the extraordinary animal. I was mistaken. At ten minutes to
eleven in the evening, the electric light reappeared three miles to
windward of the frigate, as pure, as intense as during the preceding
night.
The narwhal seemed motionless; perhaps, tired with its day's work, it
slept, letting itself float with the undulation of the waves. Now was a
chance of which the captain resolved to take advantage.
He gave his orders. The Abraham Lincoln kept up half steam, and
advanced cautiously so as not to awake its adversary. It is no rare thing
to meet in the middle of the ocean whales so sound asleep that they can be
successfully attacked, and Ned Land had harpooned more than one during its
sleep. The Canadian went to take his place again under the bowsprit.
The frigate approached noiselessly, stopped at two cables' lengths from
the animal, and following its track. No one breathed; a deep silence
reigned on the bridge. We were not a hundred feet from the burning focus,
the light of which increased and dazzled our eyes.
At this moment, leaning on the forecastle bulwark, I saw below me Ned
Land grappling the martingale in one hand, brandishing his terrible
harpoon in the other, scarcely twenty feet from the motionless animal.
Suddenly his arm straightened, and the harpoon was thrown; I heard the
sonorous stroke of the weapon, which seemed to have struck a hard body.
The electric light went out suddenly, and two enormous waterspouts broke
over the bridge of the frigate, rushing like a torrent from stem to stern,
overthrowing men, and breaking the lashings of the spars. A fearful shock
followed, and, thrown over the rail without having time to stop myself, I
fell into the sea.
Chapter VII. AN UNKNOWN SPECIES OF WHALE
This unexpected fall so stunned me that I have no clear recollection of
my sensations at the time. I was at first drawn down to a depth of about
twenty feet. I am a good swimmer (though without pretending to rival Byron
or Edgar Poe, who were masters of the art), and in that plunge I did not
lose my presence of mind. Two vigorous strokes brought me to the surface
of the water. My first care was to look for the frigate. Had the crew seen
me disappear? Had the Abraham Lincoln veered round? Would the captain put
out a boat? Might I hope to be saved?
The darkness was intense. I caught a glimpse of a black mass
disappearing in the east, its beacon lights dying out in the distance. It
was the frigate! I was lost.
"Help, help!" I shouted, swimming towards the Abraham Lincoln in
desperation.
My clothes encumbered me; they seemed glued to my body, and paralysed
my movements.
I was sinking! I was suffocating!
"Help!"
This was my last cry. My mouth filled with water; I struggled against
being drawn down the abyss. Suddenly my clothes were seized by a strong
hand, and I felt myself quickly drawn up to the surface of the sea; and I
heard, yes, I heard these words pronounced in my ear:
"If master would be so good as to lean on my shoulder, master would
swim with much greater ease."
I seized with one hand my faithful Conseil's arm.
"Is it you?" said I, "you?"
"Myself," answered Conseil; "and waiting master's orders."
"That shock threw you as well as me into the sea?"
"No; but, being in my master's service, I followed him."
The worthy fellow thought that was but natural.
"And the frigate?" I asked.
"The frigate?" replied Conseil, turning on his back; "I think that
master had better not count too much on her."
"You think so?"
"I say that, at the time I threw myself into the sea, I heard the men
at the wheel say, `The screw and the rudder are broken.'
"Broken?"
"Yes, broken by the monster's teeth. It is the only injury the Abraham
Lincoln has sustained. But it is a bad look-out for us- she no longer
answers her helm."
"Then we are lost!"
"Perhaps so," calmly answered Conseil. "However, we have still several
hours before us, and one can do a good deal in some hours."
Conseil's imperturbable coolness set me up again. I swam more
vigorously; but, cramped by my clothes, which stuck to me like a leaden
weight, I felt great difficulty in bearing up. Conseil saw this.
"Will master let me make a slit?" said he; and, slipping an open knife
under my clothes, he ripped them up from top to bottom very rapidly. Then
he cleverly slipped them off me, while I swam for both of us.
Then I did the same for Conseil, and we continued to swim near to each
other.
Nevertheless, our situation was no less terrible. Perhaps our
disappearance had not been noticed; and, if it had been, the frigate could
not tack, being without its helm. Conseil argued on this supposition, and
laid his plans accordingly. This quiet boy was perfectly self-possessed.
We then decided that, as our only chance of safety was being picked up by
the Abraham Lincoln's boats, we ought to manage so as to wait for them as
long as possible. I resolved then to husband our strength, so that both
should not be exhausted at the same time; and this is how we managed:
while one of us lay on our back, quite still, with arms crossed, and legs
stretched out, the other would swim and push the other on in front. This
towing business did not last more than ten minutes each; and relieving
each other thus, we could swim on for some hours, perhaps till day-break.
Poor chance! but hope is so firmly rooted in the heart of man! Moreover,
there were two of us. Indeed I declare (though it may seem improbable) if
I sought to destroy all hope-if I wished to despair, I could not.
The collision of the frigate with the cetacean had occurred about
eleven o'clock in the evening before. I reckoned then we should have eight
hours to swim before sunrise, an operation quite practicable if we
relieved each other. The sea, very calm, was in our favour. Sometimes I
tried to pierce the intense darkness that was only dispelled by the
phosphorescence caused by our movements. I watched the luminous waves that
broke over my hand, whose mirror-like surface was spotted with silvery
rings. One might have said that we were in a bath of quicksilver.
Near one o'clock in the morning, I was seized with dreadful fatigue. My
limbs stiffened under the strain of violent cramp. Conseil was obliged to
keep me up, and our preservation devolved on him alone. I heard the poor
boy pant; his breathing became short and hurried. I found that he could
not keep up much longer.
"Leave me! leave me!" I said to him.
"Leave my master? Never!" replied he. "I would drown first."
Just then the moon appeared through the fringes of a thick cloud that
the wind was driving to the east. The surface of the sea glittered with
its rays. This kindly light reanimated us. My head got better again. I
looked at all points of the horizon. I saw the frigate! She was five miles
from us, and looked like a dark mass, hardly discernible. But no boats!
I would have cried out. But what good would it have been at such a
distance! My swollen lips could utter no sounds. Conseil could articulate
some words, and I heard him repeat at intervals, "Help! help!"
Our movements were suspended for an instant; we listened. It might be
only a singing in the ear, but it seemed to me as if a cry answered the
cry from Conseil.
"Did you hear?" I murmured.
"Yes! Yes!"
And Conseil gave one more despairing cry.
This time there was no mistake! A human voice responded to ours! Was it
the voice of another unfortunate creature, abandoned in the middle of the
ocean, some other victim of the shock sustained by the vessel? Or rather
was it a boat from the frigate, that was hailing us in the darkness?
Conseil made a last effort, and, leaning on my shoulder, while I struck
out in a desperate effort, he raised himself half out of the water, then
fell back exhausted.
"What did you see?"
"I saw-" murmured he; "I saw-but do not talk-reserve all your strength!"
What had he seen? Then, I know not why, the thought of the monster came
into my head for the first time! But that voice! The time is past for
Jonahs to take refuge in whales' bellies! However, Conseil was towing me
again. He raised his head sometimes, looked before us, and uttered a cry
of recognition, which was responded to by a voice that came nearer and
nearer. I scarcely heard it. My strength was exhausted; my fingers
stiffened; my hand afforded me support no longer; my mouth, convulsively
opening, filled with salt water. Cold crept over me. I raised my head for
the last time, then I sank.
At this moment a hard body struck me. I clung to it: then I felt that I
was being drawn up, that I was brought to the surface of the water, that
my chest collapsed-I fainted.
It is certain that I soon came to, thanks to the vigorous rubbings that
I received. I half opened my eyes.
"Conseil!" I murmured.
"Does master call me?" asked Conseil.
Just then, by the waning light of the moon which was sinking down to
the horizon, I saw a face which was not Conseil's and which I immediately
recognised.
"Ned!" I cried.
"The same, sir, who is seeking his prize!" replied the Canadian.
"Were you thrown into the sea by the shock to the frigate?"
"Yes, Professor; but more fortunate than you, I was able to find a
footing almost directly upon a floating island."
"An island?"
"Or, more correctly speaking, on our gigantic narwhal."
"Explain yourself, Ned!"
"Only I soon found out why my harpoon had not entered its skin and was
blunted."
"Why, Ned, why?"
"Because, Professor, that beast is made of sheet iron."
The Canadian's last words produced a sudden revolution in my brain. I
wriggled myself quickly to the top of the being, or object, half out of
the water, which served us for a refuge. I kicked it. It was evidently a
hard, impenetrable body, and not the soft substance that forms the bodies
of the great marine mammalia. But this hard body might be a bony covering,
like that of the antediluvian animals; and I should be free to class this
monster among amphibious reptiles, such as tortoises or alligators.
Well, no! the blackish back that supported me was smooth, polished,
without scales. The blow produced a metallic sound; and, incredible though
it may be, it seemed, I might say, as if it was made of riveted plates.
There was no doubt about it! This monster, this natural phenomenon that
had puzzled the learned world, and over thrown and misled the imagination
of seamen of both hemispheres, it must be owned was a still more
astonishing phenomenon, inasmuch as it was a simply human construction.
We had no time to lose, however. We were lying upon the back of a sort
of submarine boat, which appeared (as far as I could judge) like a huge
fish of steel. Ned Land's mind was made up on this point. Conseil and I
could only agree with him.
Just then a bubbling began at the back of this strange thing (which was
evidently propelled by a screw), and it began to move. We had only just
time to seize hold of the upper part, which rose about seven feet out of
the water, and happily its speed was not great.
"As long as it sails horizontally," muttered Ned Land, "I do not mind;
but, if it takes a fancy to dive, I would not give two straws for my
life."
The Canadian might have said still less. It became really necessary to
communicate with the beings, whatever they were, shut up inside the
machine. I searched all over the outside for an aperture, a panel, or a
manhole, to use a technical expression; but the lines of the iron rivets,
solidly driven into the joints of the iron plates, were clear and uniform.
Besides, the moon disappeared then, and left us in total darkness.
At last this long night passed. My indistinct remembrance prevents my
describing all the impressions it made. I can only recall one
circumstance. During some lulls of the wind and sea, I fancied I heard
several times vague sounds, a sort of fugitive harmony produced by words
of command. What was, then, the mystery of this submarine craft, of which
the whole world vainly sought an explanation? What kind of beings existed
in this strange boat? What mechanical agent caused its prodigious speed?
Daybreak appeared. The morning mists surrounded us, but they soon
cleared off. I was about to examine the hull, which formed on deck a kind
of horizontal platform, when I felt it gradually sinking.
"Oh! confound it!" cried Ned Land, kicking the resounding plate. "Open,
you inhospitable rascals!"
Happily the sinking movement ceased. Suddenly a noise, like iron works
violently pushed aside, came from the interior of the boat. One iron plate
was moved, a man appeared, uttered an odd cry, and disappeared
immediately.
Some moments after, eight strong men, with masked faces, appeared
noiselessly, and drew us down into their formidable machine.
Chapter VIII. MOBILIS IN MOBILI
This forcible abduction, so roughly carried out, was accomplished with
the rapidity of lightning. I shivered all over. Whom had we to deal with?
No doubt some new sort of pirates, who explored the sea in their own way.
Hardly had the narrow panel closed upon me, when I was enveloped in
darkness. My eyes, dazzled with the outer light, could distinguish
nothing. I felt my naked feet cling to the rungs of an iron ladder. Ned
Land and Conseil, firmly seized, followed me. At the bottom of the ladder,
a door opened, and shut after us immediately with a bang.
We were alone. Where, I could not say, hardly imagine. All was black,
and such a dense black that, after some minutes, my eyes had not been able
to discern even the faintest glimmer.
Meanwhile, Ned Land, furious at these proceedings, gave free vent to
his indignation.
"Confound it!" cried he, "here are people who come up to the Scotch for
hospitality. They only just miss being cannibals. I should not be
surprised at it, but I declare that they shall not eat me without my
protesting."
"Calm yourself, friend Ned, calm yourself," replied Conseil, quietly.
"Do not cry out before you are hurt. We are not quite done for yet."
"Not quite," sharply replied the Canadian, "but pretty near, at all
events. Things look black. Happily, my bowie knife I have still, and I can
always see well enough to use it. The first of these pirates who lays a
hand on me-"
"Do not excite yourself, Ned," I said to the harpooner, "and do not
compromise us by useless violence. Who knows that they will not listen to
us? Let us rather try to find out where we are."
I groped about. In five steps I came to an iron wall, made of plates
bolted together. Then turning back I struck against a wooden table, near
which were ranged several stools. The boards of this prison were concealed
under a thick mat, which deadened the noise of the feet. The bare walls
revealed no trace of window or door. Conseil, going round the reverse way,
met me, and we went back to the middle of the cabin, which measured about
twenty feet by ten. As to its height, Ned Land, in spite of his own great
height, could not measure it.
Half an hour had already passed without our situation being bettered,
when the dense darkness suddenly gave way to extreme light. Our prison was
suddenly lighted, that is to say, it became filled with a luminous matter,
so strong that I could not bear it at first. In its whiteness and
intensity I recognised that electric light which played round the
submarine boat like a magnificent phenomenon of phosphorescence. After
shutting my eyes involuntarily, I opened them, and saw that this luminous
agent came from a half globe, unpolished, placed in the roof of the cabin.
"At last one can see," cried Ned Land, who, knife in hand, stood on the
defensive.
"Yes," said I; "but we are still in the dark about ourselves."
"Let master have patience," said the imperturbable Conseil.
The sudden lighting of the cabin enabled me to examine it minutely. It
only contained a table and five stools. The invisible door might be
hermetically sealed. No noise was heard. All seemed dead in the interior
of this boat. Did it move, did it float on the surface of the ocean, or
did it dive into its depths? I could not guess.
A noise of bolts was now heard, the door opened, and two men appeared.
One was short, very muscular, broad-shouldered, with robust limbs,
strong head, an abundance of black hair, thick moustache, a quick
penetrating look, and the vivacity which characterises the population of
Southern France.
The second stranger merits a more detailed description. I made out his
prevailing qualities directly: self-confidence-because his head was well
set on his shoulders, and his black eyes looked around with cold
assurance; calmness-for his skin, rather pale, showed his coolness of
blood; energy-evinced by the rapid contraction of his lofty brows; and
courage-because his deep breathing denoted great power of lungs.
Whether this person was thirty-five or fifty years of age, I could not
say. He was tall, had a large forehead, straight nose, a clearly cut
mouth, beautiful teeth, with fine taper hands, indicative of a highly
nervous temperament. This man was certainly the most admirable specimen I
had ever met. One particular feature was his eyes, rather far from each
other, and which could take in nearly a quarter of the horizon at once.
This faculty-(I verified it later)-gave him a range of vision far
superior to Ned Land's. When this stranger fixed upon an object, his
eyebrows met, his large eyelids closed around so as to contract the range
of his vision, and he looked as if he magnified the objects lessened by
distance, as if he pierced those sheets of water so opaque to our eyes,
and as if he read the very depths of the seas.
The two strangers, with caps made from the fur of the sea otter, and
shod with sea boots of seal's skin, were dressed in clothes of a
particular texture, which allowed free movement of the limbs. The taller
of the two, evidently the chief on board, examined us with great
attention, without saying a word; then, turning to his companion, talked
with him in an unknown tongue. It was a sonorous, harmonious, and flexible
dialect, the vowels seeming to admit of very varied accentuation.
The other replied by a shake of the head, and added two or three
perfectly incomprehensible words. Then he seemed to question me by a look.
I replied in good French that I did not know his language; but he
seemed not to understand me, and my situation became more embarrassing.
"If master were to tell our story," said Conseil, "perhaps these
gentlemen may understand some words."
I began to tell our adventures, articulating each syllable clearly, and
without omitting one single detail. I announced our names and rank,
introducing in person Professor Aronnax, his servant Conseil, and master
Ned Land, the harpooner.
The man with the soft calm eyes listened to me quietly, even politely,
and with extreme attention; but nothing in his countenance indicated that
he had understood my story. When I finished, he said not a word.
There remained one resource, to speak English. Perhaps they would know
this almost universal language. I knew it-as well as the German
language-well enough to read it fluently, but not to speak it correctly.
But, anyhow, we must make ourselves understood.
"Go on in your turn," I said to the harpooner; "speak your best
Anglo-Saxon, and try to do better than I."
Ned did not beg off, and recommenced our story.
To his great disgust, the harpooner did not seem to have made himself
more intelligible than I had. Our visitors did not stir. They evidently
understood neither the language of England nor of France.
Very much embarrassed, after having vainly exhausted our speaking
resources, I knew not what part to take, when Conseil said:
"If master will permit me, I will relate it in German."
But in spite of the elegant terms and good accent of the narrator, the
German language had no success. At last, nonplussed, I tried to remember
my first lessons, and to narrate our adventures in Latin, but with no
better success. This last attempt being of no avail, the two strangers
exchanged some words in their unknown language, and retired.
The door shut.
"It is an infamous shame," cried Ned Land, who broke out for the
twentieth time. "We speak to those rogues in French, English, German, and
Latin, and not one of them has the politeness to answer!"
"Calm yourself," I said to the impetuous Ned; "anger will do no good."
"But do you see, Professor," replied our irascible companion, "that we
shall absolutely die of hunger in this iron cage?"
"Bah!" said Conseil, philosophically; "we can hold out some time yet."
"My friends," I said, "we must not despair. We have been worse off than
this. Do me the favour to wait a little before forming an opinion upon the
commander and crew of this boat."
"My opinion is formed," replied Ned Land, sharply. "They are rascals."
"Good! and from what country?"
"From the land of rogues!"
"My brave Ned, that country is not clearly indicated on the map of the
world; but I admit that the nationality of the two strangers is hard to
determine. Neither English, French, nor German, that is quite certain.
However, I am inclined to think that the commander and his companion were
born in low latitudes. There is southern blood in them. But I cannot
decide by their appearance whether they are Spaniards, Turks, Arabians, or
Indians. As to their language, it is quite incomprehensible."
"There is the disadvantage of not knowing all languages," said Conseil,
"or the disadvantage of not having one universal language."
As he said these words, the door opened. A steward entered. He brought
us clothes, coats and trousers, made of a stuff I did not know. I hastened
to dress myself, and my companions followed my example. During that time,
the steward-dumb, perhaps deaf-had arranged the table, and laid three
plates.
"This is something like!" said Conseil.
"Bah!" said the angry harpooner, "what do you suppose they eat here?
Tortoise liver, filleted shark, and beef steaks from seadogs."
"We shall see," said Conseil.
The dishes, of bell metal, were placed on the table, and we took our
places. Undoubtedly we had to do with civilised people, and, had it not
been for the electric light which flooded us, I could have fancied I was
in the dining-room of the Adelphi Hotel at Liverpool, or at the Grand
Hotel in Paris. I must say, however, that there was neither bread nor
wine. The water was fresh and clear, but it was water and did not suit Ned
Land's taste. Amongst the dishes which were brought to us, I recognised
several fish delicately dressed; but of some, although excellent, I could
give no opinion, neither could I tell to what kingdom they belonged,
whether animal or vegetable. As to the dinner-service, it was elegant, and
in perfect taste. Each utensil-spoon, fork, knife, plate-had a letter
engraved on it, with a motto above it, of which this is an exact
facsimile:
MOBILIS IN MOBILI N
The letter N was no doubt the initial of the name of the enigmatical
person who commanded at the bottom of the seas.
Ned and Conseil did not reflect much. They devoured the food, and I did
likewise. I was, besides, reassured as to our fate; and it seemed evident
that our hosts would not let us die of want.
However, everything has an end, everything passes away, even the hunger
of people who have not eaten for fifteen hours. Our appetites satisfied,
we felt overcome with sleep.
"Faith! I shall sleep well," said Conseil.
"So shall I," replied Ned Land.
My two companions stretched themselves on the cabin carpet, and were
soon sound asleep. For my own part, too many thoughts crowded my brain,
too many insoluble questions pressed upon me, too many fancies kept my
eyes half open. Where were we? What strange power carried us on? I felt-or
rather fancied I felt- the machine sinking down to the lowest beds of the
sea. Dreadful nightmares beset me; I saw in these mysterious asylums a
world of unknown animals, amongst which this submarine boat seemed to be
of the same kind, living, moving, and formidable as they. Then my brain
grew calmer, my imagination wandered into vague unconsciousness, and I
soon fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter IX. NED LAND'S TEMPERS
How long we slept I do not know; but our sleep must have lasted long,
for it rested us completely from our fatigues. I woke first. My companions
had not moved, and were still stretched in their corner.
Hardly roused from my somewhat hard couch, I felt my brain freed, my
mind clear. I then began an attentive examination of our cell. Nothing was
changed inside. The prison was still a prison- the prisoners, prisoners.
However, the steward, during our sleep, had cleared the table. I breathed
with difficulty. The heavy air seemed to oppress my lungs. Although the
cell was large, we had evidently consumed a great part of the oxygen that
it contained. Indeed, each man consumes, in one hour, the oxygen contained
in more than 176 pints of air, and this air, charged (as then) with a
nearly equal quantity of carbonic acid, becomes unbreathable.
It became necessary to renew the atmosphere of our prison, and no doubt
the whole in the submarine boat. That gave rise to a question in my mind.
How would the commander of this floating dwelling-place proceed? Would he
obtain air by chemical means, in getting by heat the oxygen contained in
chlorate of potash, and in absorbing carbonic acid by caustic potash? Or-a
more convenient, economical, and consequently more probable alternative-
would he be satisfied to rise and take breath at the surface of the water,
like a whale, and so renew for twenty-four hours the atmospheric
provision?
In fact, I was already obliged to increase my respirations to eke out
of this cell the little oxygen it contained, when suddenly I was refreshed
by a current of pure air, and perfumed with saline emanations. It was an
invigorating sea breeze, charged with iodine. I opened my mouth wide, and
my lungs saturated themselves with fresh particles.
At the same time I felt the boat rolling. The iron-plated monster had
evidently just risen to the surface of the ocean to breathe, after the
fashion of whales. I found out from that the mode of ventilating the boat.
When I had inhaled this air freely, I sought the conduit pipe, which
conveyed to us the beneficial whiff, and I was not long in finding it.
Above the door was a ventilator, through which volumes of fresh air
renewed the impoverished atmosphere of the cell.
I was making my observations, when Ned and Conseil awoke almost at the
same time, under the influence of this reviving air. They rubbed their
eyes, stretched themselves, and were on their feet in an instant.
"Did master sleep well?" asked Conseil, with his usual politeness.
"Very well, my brave boy. And you, Mr. Land?"
"Soundly, Professor. But, I don't know if I am right or not, there
seems to be a sea breeze!"
A seaman could not be mistaken, and I told the Canadian all that had
passed during his sleep.
"Good!" said he. "That accounts for those roarings we heard, when the
supposed narwhal sighted the Abraham Lincoln."
"Quite so, Master Land; it was taking breath."
"Only, Mr. Aronnax, I have no idea what o'clock it is, unless it is
dinner-time."
"Dinner-time! my good fellow? Say rather breakfast-time, for we
certainly have begun another day."
"So," said Conseil, "we have slept twenty-four hours?"
"That is my opinion."
"I will not contradict you," replied Ned Land. "But, dinner or
breakfast, the steward will be welcome, whichever he brings."
"Master Land, we must conform to the rules on board, and I suppose our
appetites are in advance of the dinner hour."
"That is just like you, friend Conseil," said Ned, impatiently. "You
are never out of temper, always calm; you would return thanks before
grace, and die of hunger rather than complain!"
Time was getting on, and we were fearfully hungry; and this time the
steward did not appear. It was rather too long to leave us, if they really
had good intentions towards us. Ned Land, tormented by the cravings of
hunger, got still more angry; and, notwithstanding his promise, I dreaded
an explosion when he found himself with one of the crew.
For two hours more Ned Land's temper increased; he cried, he shouted,
but in vain. The walls were deaf. There was no sound to be heard in the
boat; all was still as death. It did not move, for I should have felt the
trembling motion of the hull under the influence of the screw. Plunged in
the depths of the waters, it belonged no longer to earth: this silence was
dreadful.
I felt terrified, Conseil was calm, Ned Land roared.
Just then a noise was heard outside. Steps sounded on the metal flags.
The locks were turned, the door opened, and the steward appeared.
Before I could rush forward to stop him, the Canadian had thrown him
down, and held him by the throat. The steward was choking under the grip
of his powerful hand.
Conseil was already trying to unclasp the harpooner's hand from his
half-suffocated victim, and I was going to fly to the rescue, when
suddenly I was nailed to the spot by hearing these words in French:
"Be quiet, Master Land; and you, Professor, will you be so good as to
listen to me?"
Chapter X. THE MAN OF THE SEAS
It was the commander of the vessel who thus spoke.
At these words, Ned Land rose suddenly. The steward, nearly strangled,
tottered out on a sign from his master. But such was the power of the
commander on board, that not a gesture betrayed the resentment which this
man must have felt towards the Canadian. Conseil interested in spite of
himself, I stupefied, awaited in silence the result of this scene.
The commander, leaning against the corner of a table with his arms
folded, scanned us with profound attention. Did he hesitate to speak? Did
he regret the words which he had just spoken in French? One might almost
think so.
After some moments of silence, which not one of us dreamed of breaking,
"Gentlemen," said he, in a calm and penetrating voice, "I speak French,
English, German, and Latin equally well. I could, therefore, have answered
you at our first interview, but I wished to know you first, then to
reflect. The story told by each one, entirely agreeing in the main points,
convinced me of your identity. I know now that chance has brought before
me M. Pierre Aronnax, Professor of Natural History at the Museum of Paris,
entrusted with a scientific mission abroad, Conseil, his servant, and Ned
Land, of Canadian origin, harpooner on board the frigate Abraham Lincoln
of the navy of the United States of America."
I bowed assent. It was not a question that the commander put to me.
Therefore there was no answer to be made. This man expressed himself with
perfect ease, without any accent. His sentences were well turned, his
words clear, and his fluency of speech remarkable. Yet, I did not
recognise in him a fellow-countryman.
He continued the conversation in these terms:
"You have doubtless thought, sir, that I have delayed long in paying
you this second visit. The reason is that, your identity recognised, I
wished to weigh maturely what part to act towards you. I have hesitated
much. Most annoying circumstances have brought you into the presence of a
man who has broken all the ties of humanity. You have come to trouble my
existence."
"Unintentionally!" said I.
"Unintentionally?" replied the stranger, raising his voice a little.
"Was it unintentionally that the Abraham Lincoln pursued me all over the
seas? Was it unintentionally that you took passage in this frigate? Was it
unintentionally that your cannon-balls rebounded off the plating of my
vessel? Was it unintentionally that Mr. Ned Land struck me with his
harpoon?"
I detected a restrained irritation in these words. But to these
recriminations I had a very natural answer to make, and I made it.
"Sir," said I, "no doubt you are ignorant of the discussions which have
taken place concerning you in America and Europe. You do not know that
divers accidents, caused by collisions with your submarine machine, have
excited public feeling in the two continents. I omit the theories without
number by which it was sought to explain that of which you alone possess
the secret. But you must understand that, in pursuing you over the high
seas of the Pacific, the Abraham Lincoln believed itself to be chasing
some powerful sea-monster, of which it was necessary to rid the ocean at
any price."
A half-smile curled the lips of the commander: then, in a calmer tone:
"M. Aronnax," he replied, "dare you affirm that your frigate would not
as soon have pursued and cannonaded a submarine boat as a monster?"
This question embarrassed me, for certainly Captain Farragut might not
have hesitated. He might have thought it his duty to destroy a contrivance
of this kind, as he would a gigantic narwhal.
"You understand then, sir," continued the stranger, "that I have the
right to treat you as enemies?"
I answered nothing, purposely. For what good would it be to discuss
such a proposition, when force could destroy the best arguments?
"I have hesitated some time," continued the commander; "nothing obliged
me to show you hospitality. If I chose to separate myself from you, I
should have no interest in seeing you again; I could place you upon the
deck of this vessel which has served you as a refuge, I could sink beneath
the waters, and forget that you had ever existed. Would not that be my
right?"
"It might be the right of a savage," I answered, "but not that of a
civilised man."
"Professor," replied the commander, quickly, "I am not what you call a
civilised man! I have done with society entirely, for reasons which I
alone have the right of appreciating. I do not, therefore, obey its laws,
and I desire you never to allude to them before me again!"
This was said plainly. A flash of anger and disdain kindled in the eyes
of the Unknown, and I had a glimpse of a terrible past in the life of this
man. Not only had he put himself beyond the pale of human laws, but he had
made himself independent of them, free in the strictest acceptation of the
word, quite beyond their reach! Who then would dare to pursue him at the
bottom of the sea, when, on its surface, he defied all attempts made
against him?
What vessel could resist the shock of his submarine monitor? What
cuirass, however thick, could withstand the blows of his spur? No man
could demand from him an account of his actions; God, if he believed in
one-his conscience, if he had one- were the sole judges to whom he was
answerable.
These reflections crossed my mind rapidly, whilst the stranger
personage was silent, absorbed, and as if wrapped up in himself. I
regarded him with fear mingled with interest, as, doubtless, OEdiphus
regarded the Sphinx.
After rather a long silence, the commander resumed the conversation.
"I have hesitated," said he, "but I have thought that my interest might
be reconciled with that pity to which every human being has a right. You
will remain on board my vessel, since fate has cast you there. You will be
free; and, in exchange for this liberty, I shall only impose one single
condition. Your word of honour to submit to it will suffice."
"Speak, sir," I answered. "I suppose this condition is one which a man
of honour may accept?"
"Yes, sir; it is this: It is possible that certain events, unforeseen,
may oblige me to consign you to your cabins for some hours or some days,
as the case may be. As I desire never to use violence, I expect from you,
more than all the others, a passive obedience. In thus acting, I take all
the responsibility: I acquit you entirely, for I make it an impossibility
for you to see what ought not to be seen. Do you accept this condition?"
Then things took place on board which, to say the least, were singular,
and which ought not to be seen by people who were not placed beyond the
pale of social laws. Amongst the surprises which the future was preparing
for me, this might not be the least.
"We accept," I answered; "only I will ask your permission, sir, to
address one question to you-one only."
"Speak, sir."
"You said that we should be free on board."
"Entirely."
"I ask you, then, what you mean by this liberty?"
"Just the liberty to go, to come, to see, to observe even all that
passes here save under rare circumstances-the liberty, in short, which we
enjoy ourselves, my companions and I."
It was evident that we did not understand one another.
"Pardon me, sir," I resumed, "but this liberty is only what every
prisoner has of pacing his prison. It cannot suffice us."
"It must suffice you, however."
"What! we must renounce for ever seeing our country, our friends, our
relations again?"
"Yes, sir. But to renounce that unendurable worldly yoke which men
believe to be liberty is not perhaps so painful as you think."
"Well," exclaimed Ned Land, "never will I give my word of honour not to
try to escape."
"I did not ask you for your word of honour, Master Land," answered the
commander, coldly.
"Sir," I replied, beginning to get angry in spite of my self, "you
abuse your situation towards us; it is cruelty."
"No, sir, it is clemency. You are my prisoners of war. I keep you, when
I could, by a word, plunge you into the depths of the ocean. You attacked
me. You came to surprise a secret which no man in the world must
penetrate-the secret of my whole existence. And you think that I am going
to send you back to that world which must know me no more? Never! In
retaining you, it is not you whom I guard- it is myself."
These words indicated a resolution taken on the part of the commander,
against which no arguments would prevail.
"So, sir," I rejoined, "you give us simply the choice between life and
death?"
"Simply."
"My friends," said I, "to a question thus put, there is nothing to
answer. But no word of honour binds us to the master of this vessel."
"None, sir," answered the Unknown.
Then, in a gentler tone, he continued:
"Now, permit me to finish what I have to say to you. I know you, M.
Aronnax. You and your companions will not, perhaps, have so much to
complain of in the chance which has bound you to my fate. You will find
amongst the books which are my favourite study the work which you have
published on `the depths of the sea.' I have often read it. You have
carried out your work as far as terrestrial science permitted you. But you
do not know all-you have not seen all. Let me tell you then, Professor,
that you will not regret the time passed on board my vessel. You are going
to visit the land of marvels."
These words of the commander had a great effect upon me. I cannot deny
it. My weak point was touched; and I forgot, for a moment, that the
contemplation of these sublime subjects was not worth the loss of liberty.
Besides, I trusted to the future to decide this grave question. So I
contented myself with saying:
"By what name ought I to address you?"
"Sir," replied the commander, "I am nothing to you but Captain Nemo;
and you and your companions are nothing to me but the passengers of the
Nautilus."
Captain Nemo called. A steward appeared. The captain gave him his
orders in that strange language which I did not understand. Then, turning
towards the Canadian and Conseil:
"A repast awaits you in your cabin," said he. "Be so good as to follow
this man.
"And now, M. Aronnax, our breakfast is ready. Permit me to lead the
way."
"I am at your service, Captain."
I followed Captain Nemo; and as soon as I had passed through the door,
I found myself in a kind of passage lighted by electricity, similar to the
waist of a ship. After we had proceeded a dozen yards, a second door
opened before me.
I then entered a dining-room, decorated and furnished in severe taste.
High oaken sideboards, inlaid with ebony, stood at the two extremities of
the room, and upon their shelves glittered china, porcelain, and glass of
inestimable value. The plate on the table sparkled in the rays which the
luminous ceiling shed around, while the light was tempered and softened by
exquisite paintings.
In the centre of the room was a table richly laid out. Captain Nemo
indicated the place I was to occupy.
The breakfast consisted of a certain number of dishes, the contents of
which were furnished by the sea alone; and I was ignorant of the nature
and mode of preparation of some of them. I acknowledged that they were
good, but they had a peculiar flavour, which I easily became accustomed
to. These different aliments appeared to me to be rich in phosphorus, and
I thought they must have a marine origin.
Captain Nemo looked at me. I asked him no questions, but he guessed my
thoughts, and answered of his own accord the questions which I was burning
to address to him.
"The greater part of these dishes are unknown to you," he said to me.
"However, you may partake of them without fear. They are wholesome and
nourishing. For a long time I have renounced the food of the earth, and I
am never ill now. My crew, who are healthy, are fed on the same food."
"So," said I, "all these eatables are the produc