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1873
TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA
by Jules Verne
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
A SHIFTING REEF.
THE year 1866 was signalized by a remarkable incident, a
mysterious and inexplicable phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet
forgotten. Not to mention rumors 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 cetacean, 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
ichthyologists 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 favor of the marvelous, 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.
July 20, 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 sand bank; he even
prepared to determine its exact position, when two columns of water,
projected by the inexplicable object, shot with a hissing noise a
hundred fifty feet up into the air. Now, unless the sand bank 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 blowholes columns of
water mixed with air and vapor.
Similar facts were observed on July 23 in the same year, in the
Pacific Ocean, by the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific Steam
Navigation Company. But this extraordinary cetaceous 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
signaled the monster to each other in 42 degrees 15' N. latitude and
60 degrees 35' W. longitude. In these simultaneous observations,
they thought themselves justified in estimating the minimum length
of the mammal at more than three hundred 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.
These reports arriving one after the other, with fresh
observations made on board the transatlantic ship Pereira, a collision
which occurred between the Etna of the Inman line and the monster, a
proces verbal directed by the officers of the French frigate
Normandie, a very accurate survey made by the staff of Commodore
Fitz-James on board the Lord Clyde, greatly influenced public opinion.
Light thinking people jested upon the phenomenon, but grave
practical countries, such as England, America, and Germany, treated
the matter more seriously.
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 hyperborean 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 resuscitated, and
the opinions of Aristotle and Pliny revived, who admitted the
existence of these monsters, as well as the Norwegian tales of
Bishop Pontoppidan, the accounts of Paul Heggede, and, last of all,
the reports of Mr. Harrington (whose good faith no one could suspect),
who affirmed that, being on board the Castillan, in 1857, he had
seen this enormous serpent, which had never until that time frequented
any other seas but those of the ancient Constitutionel.
Then burst forth the interminable controversy between the
credulous and the incredulous in the societies of savants and
scientific journals. "The question of the monster" inflamed all minds.
Editors of scientific journals, quarreling 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.
For six months war was waged with various fortune in the leading
articles of the Geographical Institution of Brazil, the Royal
Academy of Science of Berlin, the British Association, the Smithsonian
Institution of Washington, in the discussions of the "Indian
Archipelago," in le Cosmos of the Abbe Moigno, in the Mitteilungen
of Petermann, in the scientific chronicles of the great journals of
France and other countries. The cheaper journals replied keenly and
with inexhaustible zest. These satirical writers parodied a remark
of Linnaeus, quoted by the adversaries of the monster, maintaining
"that nature did not make fools," and adjured their contemporaries not
to give the lie to nature, by admitting the existence of krakens,
sea serpents, "Moby Dicks," and other lucubrations of delirious
sailors. At length an article in a well-known satirical journal by a
favorite contributor, the chief of the staff, settled the monster,
like Hippolytus, giving it the death blow amidst a universal burst
of laughter. Wit had conquered science.
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 March 5, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company,
finding herself during the night in 27 degrees 30' latitude and 72
degrees 15' longitude, 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 quarterdeck hurried to the after
part of the vessel. They examined the sea with the most scrupulous
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 reenacted
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.
April 13, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the breeze favorable, the
Scotia of the Cunard Company's line found herself in 15 degrees 12'
longitude and 45 degrees 37' latitude. She was going at the speed of
thirteen and a half knots.
At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, while 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 of
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
watermark 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 retrograde motion truly inexplicable.
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 Lloyds, the
number of sailing and steam ships supposed to be totally lost, from
the absence of an 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 peremptorily that the seas should at any price be relieved
from this formidable cetacean.
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 toward 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 and re-read 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
hypothesis of the floating island, and the unapproachable sand bank,
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 hypothesis, 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? 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. After the chassepots came the torpedoes, after the torpedoes
the submarine rams, then the reaction. At least, I hope so.
But the hypothesis of a war machine fell before the declaration of
Governments. As public interest was 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.
After inquiries made in England, France, Russia, Prussia, Spain,
Italy, and America, even in Turkey, the hypothesis of a submarine
monitor was definitely rejected.
Upon my arrival in New York, several persons did me the honor 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
categorically. And even "the Honorable Pierre Aronnax, Professor in
the Museum of Paris," was called upon by the New York Herald to
express a definite opinion of some sort. I did something. I spoke, for
want of power to hold my tongue. 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 April
30. It ran as follows:
"After examining one by one the different hypotheses, 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 organization 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
ichthyology 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 organization formed to inhabit the strata
inaccessible to soundings, and which an accident of some sort,
either fantastical or capricious, 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 bottom 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 armored frigates, or
the "rams" of war, whose massiveness and motive power it would possess
at the same time. Thus may this inexplicable 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 Lloyds' 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 was 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 July 2, 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 revictualed 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 honorable
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 ing by the Jardins des
Plants, 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 toward 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 phlegmatic 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 the 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 traveling
untensils coats, shirts, and stockings without counting, as many as
you can, and make haste."
"And your collections, Sir?" observed Conseil.
"We will think of them by and by."
"What! the archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons,
cheropotamus, and the other skins?"
"They will keep them at the hotel."
"And your live Babiroussa, Sir?"
"They will feed it during our absence; besides, I will give orders
to forward our menagerie to France."
"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. The author of a
work in quarto, in two volumes, on the Mysteries of the Great
Submarine Grounds cannot forbear embarking with Commander Farragut.
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."
I opened a credit account for Babiroussa, and, Conseil
following, I jumped into a cab. 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 and a third knots 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 gun room.
"We shall be well off here," said I to Conseil.
"As well, by your honor'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 scepticism.
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.
The quay of Brooklyn, and all that part of New York bordering on
the East River, was crowded with spectators. Three cheers burst
successively from five hundred thousand throats; thousands of
handkerchiefs were waved above the heads of the compact mass, saluting
the Abraham Lincoln, until she reached the waters of the Hudson, at
the point of that elongated peninsula which forms the town of New
York. Then the frigate, following the coast of New Jersey along the
right bank of the beautiful river, covered with villas, passed between
the forts, which saluted her with their heaviest guns. The Abraham
Lincoln answered by hoisting the American colors three times, whose
thirty-nine stars shone resplendent from the mizzen peak; then
modifying its speed to take the narrow channel marked by buoys
placed in the inner bay formed by Sandy Hook Point, it coasted the
long sandy beach, where some thousands of spectators gave it one final
cheer. The escort of boats and tenders still followed the frigate, and
did not leave her until they came abreast of the lightship, whose
two lights marked the entrance of the New York channel.
Six bells struck, the pilot got into his boat, and rejoined the
little schooner which was waiting under our lee, the fires were made
up, the screw beat the waves more rapidly, the frigate skirted the low
yellow coast of Long Island; and at eight bells, after having lost
sight in the northwest of the lights of Fire Island, she ran at full
steam on to the dark waters of the Atlantic.
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 cetacean 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. He was a kind of Knight of Rhodes, a second
Dieudonne de Gozon, going to meet the serpent which desolated the
island. 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 crosstrees, 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 or a singularly "cute" cachalot 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, July the thirtieth- 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 Strait of Magellan opened
less than seven hundred miles to the south. Before eight days were
over, the Abraham Lincoln would be plowing 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
wore 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, familiarized with all
the great marine mammalia; you, whose imagination might easily
accept the hypothesis of enormous cetaceans, you ought to be the
last to doubt under such circumstances!"
"That is just what deceives you, Professor," replied Ned. "That
the vulgar should believe in extraordinary comets traversing space,
and in the existence of antediluvian monsters in the heart of the
globe, may well be; but neither astronomer nor geologist believes in
such chimeras. 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 tusk of the narwhal has
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 powerfully organized,
belonging to the branch of vertebrata, like the whales, the cachalots,
or the dolphins, and furnished with a horn of defense 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 organization the strength of which would
defy all comparison."
"And why this powerful organization?" 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 32 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 pounds 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
pounds. 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 pounds to the square inch, your 6,500 square inches bear at this
moment a pressure of 97,500 pounds."
"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 neutralize 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 pounds; 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 pounds; 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 organization to
withstand such pressure!"
"Why!" exclaimed Ned Land, "they must be made of iron plates eight
inches thick, like the armored 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.
June thirtieth 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 favor.
The frigate skirted the southeast coast of America with great
rapidity. July third we were at the opening of the Strait 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!"
July sixth, 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 toward the northwest, 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. Day and night they watched the surface of the
ocean' and even nyctalopes, whose faculty of seeing in the darkness
multiplies their chances a hundredfold, would have had enough to do to
gain the prize.
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
loam 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 in 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, always phlegmatic,
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 signaled, a simple whale, or common cachalot,
which soon disappeared amidst a storm of execration.
But the weather was good. The voyage was being accomplished
under the most favorable 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.
July twentieth the tropic of Capricorn was cut by 105 degrees of
longitude, and the twenty-seventh of the same month we crossed the
equator on meridian 110. 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 theater of the last diversions of the
monster; and to say truth, we no longer lived on board. Hearts
palpitated, fearfully preparing themselves for future incurable
aneurism. 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 North 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 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 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 second 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 fourth of
November arrived without the unveiling of this submarine mystery.
The next day, the fifth 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 southeast and
abandon forever the northern regions of the Pacific.
The frigate was then in 31 degrees 15' north latitude and 136
degrees 42' east longitude. The coast of Japan 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 honor of being a savant as you are, Sir, one
should not expose oneself 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 toward 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' lengths 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 inexplicable 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 center of which condensed a burning heat,
whose overpowering brilliancy died out by successive gradations.
"It is only an agglomeration of phosphoric particles," cried one
of the officers.
"No, Sir, certainly not," I replied. "Never did pholades or salpae
produce such a powerful light. That brightness is of an essentially
electrical nature. Besides, see, see! it moves; it is moving
forward, backward, it is darting toward 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 toward 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 maneuvers 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 oneself 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 gymnotus or 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. Toward
midnight, however, it disappeared, or, to use a more appropriate term,
it "died out" like a large glowworm. 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 harpoon
lengths 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.
Toward 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 blunderbusses, 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 spyglasses could not pierce it. That
caused disappointment and anger.
I climbed the mizzenmast. Some officers were already perched on
the mastheads. 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 toward 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 caudal appendage beat the sea with such violence. An
immense track, of a 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
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
one hundred twenty 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 powerful 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 eighteen and a half miles an hour.
But the accursed animal swam, too, at the rate of eighteen and a
half miles.
For a whole hour, the frigate kept up this pace, without gaining
six feet. It was humiliating for one of the swiftest sailors 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 again called.
"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 nineteen and three tenths 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 gray 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, but not fatally,
and, sliding off the rounded surface, was lost in two miles depth of
sea.
The chase began again, and the captain, leaning toward 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
sixth. 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'
length 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 lashing 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 toward the Abraham Lincoln in
desperation.
My clothes encumbered me; they seemed glued to my body, and
paralyzed 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 lookout 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 great deal in some hours."
Conseil's imperturbable coolness set me up again. I swam more
vigorously; but, cramped by my clothes, 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 phlegmatic 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
his back, quite still, with arms crossed, and legs stretched out,
the other would swim and push him 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 daybreak. Poor
chancel 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 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 favor. 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.
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 the 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 call.
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 despairing 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 cheat 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 recognized.
"Ned!" I cried.
"The same, Sir, who is seeking his prize!" replied the Canadian.
"Were you thrown into the sea by the shock of 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 carapace, 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 overthrown and misled the
imagination of seamen of both hemispheres, was, it must be owned, 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
distant 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 rings 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 but 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 of phormium, 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 recognized 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 contained only 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 mustache, a quick,
penetrating look, and the vivacity which characterizes the
population of southern France.
The second stranger merits a more detailed description. A disciple
of Gratiolet or Engel would have read his face like an open book. 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
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 seals' 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 Arago nor of
Faraday.
Very much embarrassed, after having vainly exhausted our
philological 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 turns 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. That 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, philisophically, "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 favor 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 rancorous harpooner, "what do you suppose they eat
here? Tortoise liver, filleted shark, and beefsteaks from sea dogs."
"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 civilized 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. Among the dishes which
were brought to us, I recognized 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 strange
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, among
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 cetacean, 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 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, 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 toward 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?" It was the commander of the vessel who thus spoke.
CHAPTER X.
THE MAN OF THE SEAS.
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 toward the Canadian.
Conseil interested in spite of himself, I stupefied, awaited in
silence the result of this scene.
The commander, leaning against a corner of the 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 Monsieur 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.
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
recognized, I wished to weigh maturely what part to act toward 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
hypotheses without number by which it was sought to explain the
inexplicable phenomenon 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 sea
monster, of which it was necessary to rid the ocean at any price."
A half smile curled the lips of the commander.
"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 for 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 civilized man."
"Professor," replied the commander quickly, "I am not what you
call a civilized 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, while the stranger
personage was silent, absorbed, and as if wrapped up in himself. I
regarded him with fear mingled with interest, as, doubtless, Oedipus
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 honor to submit to it
will suffice."
"Speak, Sir," I answered, "I suppose this condition is one which a
man of honor 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. Among 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 ourselves enjoy, my companions and I."
It was evident that we did not understand each other.
"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 forever 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 honor
not to try to escape."
"I did not ask you for your word of honor, Master Land,"
answered the commander, coldly.
"Sir," I replied, beginning to get angry in spite of myself,
"you abuse your situation toward 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 honor 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 among the books which are my favorite study the work which you
have published on 'the depths of the sea.' I have often read it. You
have carried 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 toward 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 center 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 flavor,
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 produce of the sea?"
"Yes, Professor, the sea supplies all my wants. Sometimes I cast
my nets in tow, and I draw them in ready to break. Sometimes I hunt in
the midst of this element, which appears to be inaccessible to man,
and quarry the game which dwells in my submarine forests. My flocks,
like those of Neptune's old shepherds, graze fearlessly in the immense
prairies of the ocean. I have a vast property there, which I cultivate
myself, and which is always sown by the hand of the Creator of all
things."
"I can understand perfectly, Sir, that your nets furnish excellent
fish for your table; I can understand also that you hunt aquatic
game in your submarine forests; but I cannot understand at all how a
particle of meat, no matter how small, can figure in your bill of
fare."
"This, which you believe to be meat, Professor, is nothing else
than fillet of turtle. Here are also some dolphin's livers, which
you take to be ragout of pork. My cook is a clever fellow, who
excels in dressing these various products of the ocean. Taste all
these dishes. Here is a preserve of holothuria, which a Malay would
declare to be unrivaled in the world; here is a cream, of which the
milk has been furnished by the cetacea, and the sugar by the great
fucus of the North Sea; and lastly, permit me to offer you some
preserve of anemones, which is equal to that of the most delicious
fruits."
I tasted, more from curiosity than as a connoisseur, while Captain
Nemo enchanted me with his extraordinary stories.
"You like the sea, Captain?"
"Yes; I love it! The sea is everything. It covers seven-tenths
of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an
immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life
stirring on all sides. The sea is only the embodiment of a
supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and
emotion; it is the 'Living Infinite', as one of your poets has said.
In fact, Professor, Nature manifests herself in it by her three
kingdoms, mineral, vegetable, and animal. The sea is the vast
reservoir of Nature. The globe began with sea, so to speak; and who
knows if it will not end with it? In it is supreme tranquility. The
sea does not belong to despots. Upon its surface men can still
exercise unjust laws, fight, tear one another to pieces, and be
carried away with terrestrial horrors. But at thirty feet below its
level, their reign ceases, their influence is quenched, and their
power disappears. Ah! Sir, live- live in the bosom of the waters!
There only is independence! There I recognize no masters! There I am
free!"
Captain Nemo suddenly became silent in the midst of this
enthusiasm, by which he was quite carried away. For a few moments he
paced up and down, much agitated. Then he became more calm, regained
his accustomed coldness of expression, and turning toward me:
"Now, Professor," said he, "if you wish to go over the Nautilus, I
am at your service."
Captain Nemo rose. I followed him. A double door, contrived at the
back of the dining room, and I entered a room equal in dimensions to
that I had just quitted.
It was a library. High pieces of furniture, of black violet
ebony inlaid with brass, supported upon their wide shelves a great
number of books uniformly bound. They followed the shape of the
room, terminating at the lower part in huge divans, covered with brown
leather, which were curved, to afford the greatest comfort. Light
movable desks, made to slide in and out at will, allowed one to rest
one's book while reading. In the center stood an immense table,
covered with pamphlets, among which were some newspapers, already of
old date. The electric light flooded everything; it was shed from four
unpolished globes half sunk in the volutes of the ceiling. I looked
with real admiration at this room, so ingeniously fitted up, and I
could scarcely believe my eyes.
"Captain Nemo," said I to my host, who had just thrown himself
on one of the divans, "this is a library which would do honor to
more than one of the continental palaces, and I am absolutely
astounded when I consider that it can follow you to the bottom of
the sea."
"Where could one find greater solitude or silence, Professor?"
replied Captain Nemo. "Did your study in the Museum afford you such
perfect quiet?"
"No, Sir; and I must confess that it is a very poor one after
yours. You must have six or seven thousand volumes here."
"Twelve thousand, M. Aronnax. These are the only ties which bind
me to the earth. But I had done with the world on the day when my
Nautilus plunged for the first time beneath the waters. That day I
bought my last volumes, my last pamphlets, my last papers, and from
that time I wish to think that men no longer think or write. These
books, Professor, are at your service besides, and you can make use of
them freely."
I thanked Captain Nemo, and went up to the shelves of the library.
Works on science, morals, and literature abounded in every language;
but I did not see one single work on political economy; that subject
appeared to be strictly proscribed. Strange to say, all these books
were irregularly arranged, in whatever language they were written; and
this medley proved that the Captain of the Nautilus must have read the
books which he took up by chance.
"Sir," said I to the captain, "I thank you for having placed
this library at my disposal. It contains treasures of science, and I
shall profit by them."
"This room is not only a library," said Captain Nemo, "it is
also a smoking room."
"A smoking room!" I cried. "Then one may smoke on board?"
"Certainly."
"Then, Sir, I am forced to believe that you have kept up a
communication with Havana."
"Not any," answered the captain. "Accept this cigar, M. Aronnax;
and though it does not come from Havana, you will be pleased with
it, if you are a connoisseur."
I took the cigar which was offered me; its shape recalled the
London ones, but it seemed to be made of leaves of gold. I lighted
it at a little brazier, which was supported upon an elegant bronze
stem, and drew the first whiffs with the delight of a lover of
smoking who has not smoked for two days.
"It is excellent," said I, "but it is not tobacco."
"No!" answered the captain, "this tobacco comes neither from
Havana nor from the East. It is a kind of seaweed, rich in nicotine,
with which the sea provides me, but somewhat sparingly."
At that moment Captain Nemo opened a door which stood opposite
to that by which I had entered the library and I passed into an
immense drawing room. splendidly lighted.
It was a vast four-sided room, thirty feet long, eighteen wide,
and fifteen high. A luminous ceiling, decorated with light arabesques,
shed a soft, clear light over all the marvels accumulated in this
museum. For it was in fact a museum, in which an intelligent and
prodigal hand had gathered all the treasures of nature and art, with
the artistic confusion which distinguishes a painter's studio.
Thirty first-rate pictures, uniformly framed, separated by
bright drapery, ornamented the walls, which were hung with tapestry of
severe design. I saw works of great value, the greater part of which I
had admired in the special collections of Europe, and in the
exhibitions of paintings. The several schools of the old masters
were represented by a Madonna of Raphael, a Virgin of Leonardo da
Vinci, a nymph of Correggio, a woman of Titian, an Adoration of
Veronese, an Assumption of Murillo, a portrait of Holbein, a monk of
Velasquez, a martyr of Ribeira, a fair of Rubens, two Flemish
landscapes of Teniers, three little genre pictures of Gerard Dow,
Metsu, and Paul Potter, two specimens of Gericault and Prudhon, and
some sea pieces of Backhuysen and Vernet. Among the works of modern
painters were pictures with the signatures of Delacroix, Ingres,
Decamp, Troyon, Meissonnier, Daubigny, etc.; and some admirable
statues in marble and bronze, after the finest antique models, stood
upon pedestals in the corners of this magnificent museum. Amazement,
as the captain of the Nautilus had predicted, had already begun to
take possession of me.
"Professor," said this strange man, "you must excuse the
unceremonious way in which I receive you, and the disorder of this
room."
"Sir," I answered, "without seeking to know who you are, I
recognize in you an artist."
"An amateur, nothing more, Sir. Formerly I loved to collect
these beautiful works created by the hand of man. I sought them
greedily, and ferreted them out indefatigably, and I have been able to
bring together some objects of great value. These are my last
souvenirs of that world which is dead to me. In my eyes, your modern
artists are already old; they have two or three thousand years of
existence; I confound them in my own mind. Masters have no age."
"And these musicians?" said I, pointing out some works of Weber,
Rossini, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Meyerbeer, Herold, Wagner, Auber,
Gounod, and a number of others, scattered over a large model
piano-organ which occupied one of the panels of the drawing room.
"These musicians," replied Captain Nemo, "are the contemporaries
of Orpheus; for in the memory of the dead all chronological
differences are effaced; and I am dead, Professor; as much dead as
those of your friends who are sleeping six feet under the earth!"
Captain Nemo was silent, and seemed lost in a profound reverie.
I contemplated him with deep interest, analyzing in silence the
strange expression of his countenance. Leaning on his elbow against an
angle of a costly mosaic table, he no longer saw me, he had
forgotten my presence.
I did not disturb this reverie, and continued my observation of
the curiosities which enriched this drawing room.
Under elegant glass cases, fixed by copper rivets, were classed
and labeled the most precious productions of the sea which had ever
been presented to the eye of a naturalist. My delight as a professor
may be conceived.
The division containing the zoophytes presented the most curious
specimens of the two groups of polypi and echinodermes. In the first
group, the tubipores, were gorgones arranged like a fan, soft
sponges of Syria, ises of the Molukkas, pennatules, an admirable
virgularia of the Norwegian seas, variegated umbellulairae,
alcyonariae, a whole series of madrepores, which my master Milne
Edwards has so cleverly classified, among which I remarked some
wonderful flabellinae, oculinae of the Island of Bourbon, the
"Neptune's car" of the Antilles, superb varieties of corals, in short,
every species of those curious polypi of which entire islands are
formed, which will one day become continents. Of the echinodermes,
remarkable for their coating of spines, asteri, sea stars,
pantacrinae, comatules, asterophons, echini, holothuri, etc.,
represented individually a complete collection of this group.
A somewhat nervous conchyliologist would certainly have fainted
before other more numerous cases, in which were classified the
specimens of mollusks. It was a collection of inestimable value, which
time fails me to describe minutely. Among these specimens, I will
quote from memory only the elegant royal hammer fish of the Indian
Ocean, whose regular white spots stood out brightly on a red and brown
ground, an imperial spondyle, bright-colored, bristling with spines, a
rare specimen in the European museums (I estimated its value at not
less than $5,000); a common hammer fish of the seas of New Holland,
which is only procured with difficulty; exotic buccardia of Senegal;
fragile white bivalve shells, which a breath might shatter like a soap
bubble; several varieties of the aspirgillum of Java, a kind of
calcareous tube, edged with leafy folds, and much debated by amateurs;
a whole series of trochi, some a greenish yellow, found in the
American seas, others a reddish brown, natives of Australian waters;
others from the Gulf of Mexico, remarkable for their imbricated shell;
stellari found in the southern seas; and last, the rarest of all,
the magnificent of New Zealand; and every description of delicate
and fragile shells to which science has given appropriate names.
Apart, in separate compartments, were spread out chaplets of
pearls of the greatest beauty, which reflected the electric light in
little sparks of fire; pink pearls, torn from the pinna-marina of
the Red Sea; green pearls of the haliotyde iris; yellow, blue, and
black pearls, the curious productions of the divers mollusks of
every ocean, and certain mussels of the watercourses of the North;
lastly, several specimens of inestimable value which had been gathered
from the rarest pintadines. Some of these pearls were larger than a
pigeon's egg, and were worth as much and more than that which the
traveler Tavernier sold to the Shah of Persia for three millions,
and surpassed the one in the possession of the Imam of Maskat, which I
had believed to be unrivaled in the world.
Therefore to estimate the value of this collection was simply
impossible. Captain Nemo must have expended millions in the
acquirement of these various specimens, and I was thinking what source
he could have drawn from, to have been able thus to gratify his
fancy for collecting, when I was interrupted by these words:
"You are examining my shells, Professor? Unquestionably they
must be interesting to a naturalist; but for me they have a far
greater charm, for I have collected them all with my own hand, and
there is not a sea on the face of the globe which has escaped my
researches."
"I can understand, Captain, the delight of wandering about in
the midst of such riches. You are one of those who have collected
their treasures themselves. No museum in Europe possesses such a
collection of the produce of the ocean. But if I exhaust all my
admiration upon it, I shall have none left for the vessel which
carries it. I do not wish to pry into your secrets; but I must confess
that this Nautilus with the motive power which is confined in it,
the contrivances which enable it to be worked, the powerful agent
which propels it, all excite my curiosity to the highest pitch. I
see suspended on the walls of this room instruments of whose use I
am ignorant."
"You will find these same instruments in my own room, Professor,
where I shall have much pleasure in explaining their use to you. But
first come and inspect the cabin which is set apart for your own
use. You must see how you will be accommodated on board the Nautilus."
I followed Captain Nemo, who, by one of the doors opening from
each panel of the drawing room, regained the waist. He conducted me
towards the bow, and there I found, not a cabin, but an elegant
room, with a bed, dressing table, and several other pieces of
furniture.
I could only thank my host.
"Your room adjoins mine," said he, opening a door, "and mine opens
into the drawing room that we have just quitted."
I entered the captain's room: it had a severe, almost a monkish,
aspect. A small iron bedstead, a table, some articles for the
toilet; the whole lighted by a skylight. No comforts, the strictest
necessities only.
Captain Nemo pointed to a seat.
"Be so good as to sit down," he said. I seated myself, and he
began thus:
CHAPTER XI.
ALL BY ELECTRICITY.
"SIR," said Captain Nemo, showing me the instruments hanging on
the walls of his room, "here are the contrivances required for the
navigation of the Nautilus. Here, as in the drawing room, I have
them always under my eyes, and they indicate my |