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p. 66: Arronax] Aronnax; p. 87: zoophites] zoophytes; p. 89: aparatus]
apparatus; p. 96: dirunal] diurnal; p. 97: Arronax] Aronnax; p. 123: porphry]
porphyry; p. 141: Arronax] Aronnax; p. 146: sideral] sidereal; p. 177: Arronax]
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-1-
The Omnibus
JULES VERNE
contains
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
page 7
Around the World in Eighty Days
page 297
The Blockade Runners
page 489
From the Earth to the Moon and a Trip Around it
page 545
-3-
THE
OMNIBUS
JULES VERNE
J. B. Lippincott Company
-4-
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A. AT THE
COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y.
-5-
TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES
UNDER THE SEA
-7-
A SHIFTING REEF
THE year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a
mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten.
Not to mention rumours which agitated the maritime population and excited the
public mind, even in the interior of continents, seafaring men were particularly
excited. Merchants, common sailors, captains of vessels, skippers, both of
Europe and America, naval officers of all countries, and the Governments of
several States on the two continents, were deeply interested in the matter.
For some time past vessels had been met by "an enormous
thing," a long object, spindle-shaped, occasionally phosphorescent, and
infinitely larger and more rapid in its movements than a whale.
The facts relating to this apparition (entered in various
log-books) agreed in most respects as to the shape of the object or creature in
question, the untiring rapidity of its movements, its surprising power of
locomotion, and the peculiar life with which it seemed endowed. If it was a
whale, it surpassed in size all those hitherto classified in science. Taking
into consideration the mean of observations made at divers times -- rejecting
the timid estimate of those who assigned to this object a length of two hundred
feet, equally with the exaggerated opinions which set it down as a mile in width
and three in length -- we might fairly conclude that this mysterious being
surpassed greatly all dimensions admitted by the learned ones of the day, if it
existed at all. And that it did exist was an undeniable fact; and, with that
tendency which disposes the human mind in favour of the
-8-
marvellous, we can understand the excitement produced in the entire world by
this supernatural apparition. As to classing it in the list of fables, the idea
was out of the question.
On the 20th of July, 1866, the steamer Governor Higginson,
of the Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, had met this moving mass
five miles off the east coast of Australia. Captain Baker thought at first that
he was in the presence of an unknown sandbank; he even prepared to determine its
exact position when two columns of water, projected by the mysterious object,
shot with a hissing noise a hundred and fifty feet up into the air. Now, unless
the sandbank had been submitted to the intermittent eruption of a geyser, the
Governor Higginson had to do neither more nor less than with an aquatic mammal,
unknown till then, which threw up from its blow-boles columns of water mixed
with air and vapour.
Similar facts were observed on the 23rd of July in the
same year, in the Pacific Ocean, by the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific
Steam Navigation Company. But this extraordinary creature could transport itself
from one place to another with surprising velocity; as, in an interval of three
days, the Governor Higginson and the Columbus had observed it at two different
points of the chart, separated by a distance of more than seven hundred nautical
leagues.
Fifteen days later, two thousand miles farther off, the
Helvetia, of the Compagnie-Nationale, and the Shannon, of the Royal Mail
Steamship Company, sailing to windward in that portion of the Atlantic lying
between the United States and Europe, respectively signalled the monster to each
other in 42o 15' N. lat. and 60o 35' W. long. In these
simultaneous observations they thought themselves justified in estimating the
minimum length of the mammal at more than three hundred and fifty feet, as the
Shannon and Helvetia were of smaller dimensions than it, though they measured
three hundred feet over all.
Now the largest whales, those which frequent those parts
of the sea round the Aleutian, Kulammak, and Umgullich
-9-
islands, have never exceeded the length of sixty yards, if they attain that.
In every place of great resort the monster was the
fashion. They sang of it in the cafes, ridiculed it in the papers, and
represented it on the stage. All kinds of stories were circulated regarding it.
There appeared in the papers caricatures of every gigantic and imaginary
creature, from the white whale, the terrible "Moby Dick" of sub-arctic regions,
to the immense kraken, whose tentacles could entangle a ship of five hundred
tons and hurry it into the abyss of the ocean. The legends of ancient times were
even revived.
Then burst forth the unending argument between the
believers and the unbelievers in the societies of the wise and the scientific
journals. "The question of the monster" inflamed all minds. Editors of
scientific journals, quarrelling with believers in the supernatural, spilled
seas of ink during this memorable campaign, some even drawing blood; for from
the sea-serpent they came to direct personalities.
During the first months of the year 1867 the question
seemed buried, never to revive, when new facts were brought before the public.
It was then no longer a scientific problem to be solved, but a real danger
seriously to be avoided. The question took quite another shape. The monster
became a small island, a rock, a reef, but a reef of indefinite and shifting
proportions.
On the 5th of March, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal
Ocean Company, finding herself during the night in 27o 30' lat. and
72o 15' long., struck on her starboard quarter a rock, marked in no
chart for that part of the sea. Under the combined efforts of the wind and its
four hundred horse-power, it was going at the rate of thirteen knots. Had it not
been for the superior strength of the hull of the Moravian, she would have been
broken by the shock and gone down with the 237 passengers she was bringing home
from Canada.
The accident happened about five o'clock in the morning,
as the day was breaking. The officers of the quarter-deck hurried to the
after-part of the vessel. They examined the sea with the most careful attention.
They saw nothing but a strong eddy about three cables' length distant, as if the
surface
-10-
had been violently agitated. The bearings of the place were taken exactly, and
the Moravian continued its route without apparent damage. Had it struck on a
submerged rock, or on an enormous wreck? They could not tell; but, on
examination of the ship's bottom when undergoing repairs, it was found that part
of her keel was broken.
This fact, so grave in itself, might perhaps have been
forgotten like many others if, three weeks after, it had not been re-enacted
under similar circumstances. But, thanks to the nationality of the victim of the
shock, thanks to the reputation of the company to which the vessel belonged, the
circumstance became extensively circulated.
The 13th of April, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the
breeze favourable, the Scotia, of the Cunard Company's line, found herself in 15o
12' long. and 45o 37' lat. She was going at the speed of thirteen
knots and a half.
At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, whilst
the passengers were assembled at lunch in the great saloon, a slight shock was
felt on the hull of the Scotia, on her quarter, a little aft of the port-paddle.
The Scotia had not struck, but she had been struck, and
seemingly by something rather sharp and penetrating than blunt. The shock had
been so slight that no one had been alarmed, had it not been for the shouts of
the carpenter's watch, who rushed on to the bridge, exclaiming, "We are sinking!
we are sinking!" At first the passengers were much frightened, but Captain
Anderson hastened to reassure them. The danger could not be imminent. The
Scotia, divided into seven compartments by strong partitions, could brave with
impunity any leak. Captain Anderson went down immediately into the hold. He
found that the sea was pouring into the fifth compartment; and the rapidity of
the influx proved that the force of the water was considerable. Fortunately this
compartment did not hold the boilers, or the fires would have been immediately
extinguished. Captain Anderson ordered the engines to be stopped at once, and
one of the men went down to ascertain the extent of the injury. Some minutes
afterwards they discovered the existence of a large hole, two yards in diameter,
in the ship's bottom. Such a
-11-
leak could not be stopped; and the Scotia, her paddles half submerged, was
obliged to continue her course. She was then three hundred miles from Cape
Clear, and, after three days' delay, which caused great uneasiness in Liverpool,
she entered the basin of the company.
The engineers visited the Scotia, which was put in dry
dock. They could scarcely believe it possible; at two yards and a half below
water-mark was a regular rent, in the form of an isosceles triangle. The broken
place in the iron plates was so perfectly defined that it could not have been
more neatly done by a punch. It was clear, then, that the instrument producing
the perforation was not of a common stamp and, after having been driven with
prodigious strength, and piercing an iron plate 1 3/8 inches thick, had
withdrawn itself by a backward motion.
Such was the last fact, which resulted in exciting once
more the torrent of public opinion. From this moment all unlucky casualties
which could not be otherwise accounted for were put down to the monster.
Upon this imaginary creature rested the responsibility of
all these shipwrecks, which unfortunately were considerable; for of three
thousand ships whose loss was annually recorded at Lloyd's, the number of
sailing and steam-ships supposed to be totally lost, from the absence of all
news, amounted to not less than two hundred!
Now, it was the "monster" who, justly or unjustly, was
accused of their disappearance, and, thanks to it, communication between the
different continents became more and more dangerous. The public demanded sharply
that the seas should at any price be relieved from this formidable cetacean.1.
1. Member of the whale family.
PRO AND CON
AT THE period when these events took place, I had just
returned from a scientific research in the disagreeable territory
-12-
of Nebraska, in the United States. In virtue of my office as Assistant Professor
in the Museum of Natural History in Paris, the French Government had attached me
to that expedition. After six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York towards
the end of March, laden with a precious collection. My departure for France was
fixed for the first days in May. Meanwhile I was occupying myself in classifying
my mineralogical, botanical, and zoological riches, when the accident happened
to the Scotia.
I was perfectly up in the subject which was the question
of the day. How could I be otherwise? I had read and reread all the American and
European papers without being any nearer a conclusion. This mystery puzzled me.
Under the impossibility of forming an opinion, I jumped from one extreme to the
other. That there really was something could not be doubted, and the incredulous
were invited to put their finger on the wound of the Scotia.
On my arrival at New York the question was at its height.
The theory of the floating island, and the unapproachable sandbank, supported by
minds little competent to form a judgment, was abandoned. And, indeed, unless
this shoal had a machine in its stomach, how could it change its position with
such astonishing rapidity?
From the same cause, the idea of a floating hull of an
enormous wreck was given up.
There remained, then, only two possible solutions of the
question, which created two distinct parties: on one side, those who were for a
monster of colossal strength; on the other, those who were for a submarine
vessel of enormous motive power.
But this last theory, plausible as it was, could not stand
against inquiries made in both worlds. That a private gentleman should have such
a machine at his command was not likely. Where, when, and how was it built? and
how could its construction have been kept secret? Certainly a Government might
possess such a destructive machine. And in these disastrous times, when the
ingenuity of man has multiplied the power of weapons of war, it was possible
that, without the
-13-
knowledge of others, a State might try to work such a formidable engine.
But the idea of a war machine fell before the declaration
of Governments. As public interest was in question, and transatlantic
communications suffered, their veracity could not be doubted. But how admit that
the construction of this submarine boat had escaped the public eye? For a
private gentleman to keep the secret under such circumstances would be very
difficult, and for a State whose every act is persistently watched by powerful
rivals, certainly impossible.
Upon my arrival in New York several persons did me the
honour of consulting me on the phenomenon in question. I had published in France
a work in quarto, in two volumes, entitled Mysteries of the Great Submarine
Grounds. This book, highly approved of in the learned world, gained for me a
special reputation in this rather obscure branch of Natural History. My advice
was asked. As long as I could deny the reality of the fact, I confined myself to
a decided negative. But soon, finding myself driven into a corner, I was obliged
to explain myself point by point. I discussed the question in all its forms,
politically and scientifically; and I give here an extract from a
carefully-studied article which I published in the number of the 30th of April.
It ran as follows:
"After examining one by one the different theories,
rejecting all other suggestions, it becomes necessary to admit the existence of
a marine animal of enormous power.
"The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us.
Soundings cannot reach them. What passes in those remote depths -- what beings
live, or can live, twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the waters --
what is the organisation of these animals, we can scarcely conjecture. However,
the solution of the problem submitted to me may modify the form of the dilemma.
Either we do know all the varieties of beings which people our planet, or we do
not. If we do not know them all -- if Nature has still secrets in the deeps for
us, nothing is more conformable to reason than to admit the existence of fishes,
or cetaceans of other kinds,
-14-
or even of new species, of an organisation formed to inhabit the strata
inaccessible to soundings, and which an accident of some sort has brought at
long intervals to the upper level of the ocean.
"If, on the contrary, we do know all living kinds, we must
necessarily seek for the animal in question amongst those marine beings already
classed; and, in that case, I should be disposed to admit the existence of a
gigantic narwhal.
"The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, often attains
a length of sixty feet. Increase its size fivefold or tenfold, give it strength
proportionate to its size, lengthen its destructive weapons, and you obtain the
animal required. It will have the proportions determined by the officers of the
Shannon, the instrument required by the perforation of the Scotia, and the power
necessary to pierce the hull of the steamer.
"Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword,
a halberd, according to the expression of certain naturalists. The principal
tusk has the hardness of steel. Some of these tusks have been found buried in
the bodies of whales, which the unicorn always attacks with success. Others have
been drawn out, not without trouble, from the bottoms of ships, which they bad
pierced through and through, as a gimlet pierces a barrel. The Museum of the
Faculty of Medicine of Paris possesses one of these defensive weapons, two yards
and a quarter in length, and fifteen inches in diameter at the base.
"Very well! suppose this weapon to be six times stronger
and the animal ten times more powerful; launch it at the rate of twenty miles an
hour, and you obtain a shock capable of producing the catastrophe required.
Until further information, therefore, I shall maintain it to be a sea-unicorn of
colossal dimensions, armed not with a halberd, but with a real spur, as the
armoured frigates, or the 'rams' of war, whose massiveness and motive power it
would possess at the same time. Thus may this puzzling phenomenon be explained,
unless there be something over and above all that one has ever conjectured,
seen, perceived, or experienced; which is just within the bounds of
possibility."
-15-
These last words were cowardly on my part; but, up to a
certain point, I wished to shelter my dignity as professor, and not give too
much cause for laughter to the Americans, who laugh well when they do laugh. I
reserved for myself a way of escape. In effect, however, I admitted the
existence of the "monster." My article was warmly discussed, which procured it a
high reputation. It rallied round it a certain number of partisans. The solution
it proposed gave, at least, full liberty to the imagination. The human mind
delights in grand conceptions of supernatural beings. And the sea is precisely
their best vehicle, the only medium through which these giants (against which
terrestrial animals, such as elephants or rhinoceroses, are as nothing) can be
produced or developed.
The industrial and commercial papers treated the question
chiefly from this point of view. The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, the
Lloyd's List, the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime and Colonial Review, all papers
devoted to insurance companies which threatened to raise their rates of premium,
were unanimous on this point. Public opinion had been pronounced. The United
States were the first in the field; and in New York they made preparations for
an expedition destined to pursue this narwhal. A frigate of great speed, the
Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission as soon as possible. The arsenals were
opened to Commander Farragut, who hastened the arming of his frigate; but, as it
always happens, the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster did
not appear. For two months no one heard it spoken of. No ship met with it. It
seemed as if this unicorn knew of the plots weaving around it. It had been so
much talked of, even through the Atlantic cable, that jesters pretended that
this slender fly had stopped a telegram on its passage and was making the most
of it.
So when the frigate had been armed for a long campaign,
and provided with formidable fishing apparatus, no one could tell what course to
pursue. Impatience grew apace, when, on the 2nd of July, they learned that a
steamer of the line of San Francisco, from California to Shanghai, had
-16-
seen the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean. The excitement
caused by this news was extreme. The ship was revictualled and well stocked with
coal.
Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn pier,
I received a letter worded as follows: To M. ARONNAX,
Professor in the Museum of Paris,
Fifth Avenue Hotel,
New York.
SIR, -- If you will consent to join the Abraham Lincoln in
this expedition, the Government of the United States will with pleasure see
France represented in the enterprise. Commander Farragut has a cabin at your
disposal. Very cordially yours,
J.B. HOBSON,
Secretary of Marine.
I FORM MY RESOLUTION
THREE seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson's letter
I no more thought of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the
North Sea. Three seconds after reading the letter of the honourable Secretary of
Marine, I felt that my true vocation, the sole end of my life, was to chase this
disturbing monster and purge it from the world.
But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary
and longing for repose. I aspired to nothing more than again seeing my country,
my friends, my little lodging by the Jardin des Plantes, my dear and precious
collections -- but nothing could keep me back! I forgot all -- fatigue, friends
and collections -- and accepted without hesitation the offer of the American
Government.
"Besides," thought I, "all roads lead back to Europe; and
the unicorn may be amiable enough to hurry me towards the coast of France. This
worthy animal may allow
-17-
itself to be caught in the seas of Europe (for my particular benefit), and I
will not bring back less than half a yard of his ivory halberd to the Museum of
Natural History." But in the meanwhile I must seek this narwhal in the North
Pacific Ocean, which, to return to France, was taking the road to the antipodes.
"Conseil," I called in an impatient voice.
Conseil was my servant, a true, devoted Flemish boy, who
had accompanied me in all my travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking
well. He was quiet by nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit,
evincing little disturbance at the different surprises of life, very quick with
his hands, and apt at any service required of him; and, despite his name, never
giving advice -- even when asked for it.
Conseil had followed me for the last ten years wherever
science led. Never once did he complain of the length or fatigue of a journey,
never make an objection to pack his portmanteau for whatever country it might
be, or however far away, whether China or Congo. Besides all this, he had good
health, which defied all sickness, and solid muscles, but no nerves; good morals
are understood. This boy was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master
as fifteen to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years old?
But Conseil had one fault: he was ceremonious to a degree,
and would never speak to me but in the third person, which was sometimes
provoking.
"Conseil," said I again, beginning with feverish hands to
make preparations for my departure.
Certainly I was sure of this devoted boy. As a rule, I
never asked him if it were convenient for him or not to follow me in my travels;
but this time the expedition in question might be prolonged, and the enterprise
might be hazardous in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate as
easily as a nutshell. Here there was matter for reflection even to the most
impassive man in the world. What would Conseil say?
"Conseil," I called a third time.
Conseil appeared.
-18-
"Did you call, sir?" said he, entering.
"Yes, my boy; make preparations for me and yourself too.
We leave in two hours."
"As you please, sir," replied Conseil, quietly.
"Not an instant to lose; lock in my trunk all travelling
utensils, coats, shirts, and stockings -- without counting, as many as you can,
and make haste."
"And your collections, sir?" observed Conseil.
"They will keep them at the hotel."
"We are not returning to Paris, then?" said Conseil.
"Oh! certainly," I answered, evasively, "by making a
curve."
"Will the curve please you, sir?"
"Oh! it will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that
is all. We take our passage in the Abraham, Lincoln."
"As you think proper, sir," coolly replied Conseil.
"You see, my friend, it has to do with the monster -- the
famous narwhal. We are going to purge it from the seas. A glorious mission, but
a dangerous one! We cannot tell where we may go; these animals can be very
capricious. But we will go whether or no; we have got a captain who is pretty
wide-awake."
Our luggage was transported to the deck of the frigate
immediately. I hastened on board and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the
sailors conducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a
good-looking officer, who held out his hand to me.
"Monsieur Pierre Aronnax?" said he.
"Himself," replied I. "Commander Farragut?"
"You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you."
I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined
for me.
The Abraham Lincoln had been well chosen and equipped for
her new destination. She was a frigate of great speed, fitted with high-pressure
engines which admitted a pressure of seven atmospheres. Under this the Abraham
Lincoln attained the mean speed of nearly eighteen knots and a third
-19-
an hour -- a considerable speed, but, nevertheless, insufficient to grapple with
this gigantic cetacean.
The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to
its nautical qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the
after part, opening upon the gunroom.
"We shall be well off here," said I to Conseil.
"As well, by your honour's leave, as a hermit-crab in the
shell of a whelk," said Conseil.
I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and
remounted the poop in order to survey the preparations for departure.
At that moment Commander Farragut was ordering the last
moorings to be cast loose which held the Abraham Lincoln to the pier of
Brooklyn. So in a quarter of an hour, perhaps less, the frigate would have
sailed without me. I should have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and
incredible expedition, the recital of which may well meet with some suspicion.
But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in
scouring the seas in which the animal had been sighted. He sent for the
engineer.
"Is the steam full on?" asked he.
"Yes, sir," replied the engineer.
"Go ahead," cried Commander Farragut.
NED LAND
CAPTAIN FARRAGUT was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate
he commanded. His vessel and he were one. He was the soul of it. On the question
of the monster there was no doubt in his mind, and he would not allow the
existence of the animal to be disputed on board. He believed in it, as certain
good women believe in the leviathan -- by faith, not by reason. The monster did
exist, and he had sworn to rid the seas of it. Either Captain Farragut would
kill the narwhal,
-20-
or the narwhal would kill the captain. There was no third course.
The officers on board shared the opinion of their chief.
They were ever chatting, discussing, and calculating the various chances of a
meeting, watching narrowly the vast surface of the ocean. More than one took up
his quarters voluntarily in the cross-trees, who would have cursed such a berth
under any other circumstances. As long as the sun described its daily course,
the rigging was crowded with sailors, whose feet were burnt to such an extent by
the heat of the deck as to render it unbearable; still the Abraham Lincoln had
not yet breasted the suspected waters of the Pacific. As to the ship's company,
they desired nothing better than to meet the unicorn, to harpoon it, hoist it on
board, and despatch it. They watched the sea with eager attention.
Besides, Captain Farragut had spoken of a certain sum of
two thousand dollars, set apart for whoever should first sight the monster, were
he cabin-boy, common seaman, or officer.
I leave you to judge how eyes were used on board the
Abraham Lincoln.
For my own part I was not behind the others, and, left to
no one my share of daily observations. The frigate might have been called the
Argus, for a hundred reasons. Only one amongst us, Conseil, seemed to protest by
his indifference against the question which so interested us all, and seemed to
be out of keeping with the general enthusiasm on board.
I have said that Captain Farragut had carefully provided
his ship with every apparatus for catching the gigantic cetacean. No whaler had
ever been better armed. We possessed every known engine, from the harpoon thrown
by the hand to the barbed arrows of the blunderbuss, and the explosive balls of
the duck-gun. On the forecastle lay the perfection of a breech-loading gun, very
thick at the breech, and very narrow in the bore, the model of which had been in
the Exhibition of 1867. This precious weapon of American
-21-
origin could throw with ease a conical projectile of nine pounds to a mean
distance of ten miles.
Thus the Abraham Lincoln wanted for no means of
destruction; and, what was better still she had on board Ned Land, the prince of
harpooners.
Ned Land was a Canadian, with an uncommon quickness of
hand, and who knew no equal in his dangerous occupation. Skill, coolness,
audacity, and cunning he possessed in a superior degree, and it must be a
cunning whale to escape the stroke of his harpoon.
Ned Land was about forty years of age; he was a tall man
(more than six feet high), strongly built, grave and taciturn, occasionally
violent, and very passionate when contradicted. His person attracted attention,
but above all the boldness of his look, which gave a singular expression to his
face.
Who calls himself Canadian calls himself French; and,
little communicative as Ned Land was, I must admit that he took a certain liking
for me. My nationality drew him to me, no doubt. It was an opportunity for him
to talk, and for me to hear, that old language of Rabelais, which is still in
use in some Canadian provinces. The harpooner's family was originally from
Quebec, and was already a tribe of hardy fishermen when this town belonged to
France.
Little by little, Ned Land acquired a taste for chatting,
and I loved to hear the recital of his adventures in the polar seas. He related
his fishing, and his combats, with natural poetry of expression; his recital
took the form of an epic poem, and I seemed to be listening to a Canadian Homer
singing the Iliad of the regions of the North.
I am portraying this hardy companion as I really knew him.
We are old friends now, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and
cemented amidst extreme dangers. Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a
hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your
memory.
Now, what was Ned Land's opinion upon the question of the
marine monster? I must admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was the
only one on board who did not share
-22-
that universal conviction. He even avoided the subject, which I one day thought
it my duty to press upon him. One magnificent evening, the 30th July (that is to
say, three weeks after our departure), the frigate was abreast of Cape Blanc,
thirty miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia. We had crossed the tropic of
Capricorn, and the Straits of Magellan opened less than seven hundred miles to
the south. Before eight days were over the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing
the waters of the Pacific.
Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were chatting of one
thing and another as we looked at this mysterious sea, whose great depths had up
to this time been inaccessible to the eye of man. I naturally led up the
conversation to the giant unicorn, and examined the various chances of success
or failure of the expedition. But, seeing that Ned Land let me speak without
saying too much himself, I pressed him more closely.
"Well, Ned," said I, "is it possible that you are not
convinced of the existence of this cetacean that we are following? Have you any
particular reason for being so incredulous?"
The harpooner looked at me fixedly for some moments before
answering, struck his broad forehead with his hand (a habit of his), as if to
collect himself, and said at last, "Perhaps I have, Mr. Aronnax."
"But, Ned, you, a whaler by profession, familiarised with
all the great marine mammalia -- you ought to be the last to doubt under such
circumstances!"
"That is just what deceives you, Professor," replied Ned.
"As a whaler I have followed many a cetacean, harpooned a great number, and
killed several; but, however strong or well-armed they may have been, neither
their tails nor their weapons would have been able even to scratch the iron
plates of a steamer."
"But, Ned, they tell of ships which the teeth of the
narwhal have pierced through and through."
"Wooden ships -- that is possible," replied the Canadian,
"but I have never seen it done; and, until further proof, I
-23-
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 organised,
belonging to the branch of vertebrata, like the whales, the cachalots, or the
dolphins, and furnished with a horn of defence of great penetrating power."
"Hum!" said the harpooner, shaking his head with the air
of a man who would not be convinced.
"Notice one thing, my worthy Canadian," I resumed. "If
such an animal is in existence, if it inhabits the depths of the ocean, if it
frequents the strata lying miles below the surface of the water, it must
necessarily possess an organisation the strength of which would defy all
comparison."
"And why this powerful organisation?" demanded Ned.
"Because it requires incalculable strength to keep one's
self in these strata and resist their pressure. Listen to me. Let us admit that
the pressure of the atmosphere is represented by the weight of a column of water
thirty-two feet high. In reality the column of water would be shorter, as we are
speaking of sea water, the density of which is greater than that of fresh water.
Very well, when you dive, Ned, as many times 32 feet of water as there are above
you, so many times does your body bear a pressure equal to that of the
atmosphere, that is to say, 15 lb. for each square inch of its surface. It
follows, then, that at 320 feet this pressure equals that of 10 atmospheres, of
100 atmospheres at 3,200 feet, and of 1,000 atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is,
about 6 miles; which is equivalent to saying that if you could attain this depth
in the ocean, each square three-eighths of an inch of the surface of your body
would bear a pressure of 5,600 lb. Ah! my brave Ned, do you know how many square
inches you carry on the surface of your body?"
"I have no idea, Mr. Aronnax."
"About 6,500; and as in reality the atmospheric pressure
is about 15 lb. to the square inch, your 6,500 square inches bear at this moment
a pressure of 97,500 lb."
"Without my perceiving it?"
-24-
"Without your perceiving it. And if you are not crushed by
such a pressure, it is because the air penetrates the interior of your body with
equal pressure. Hence perfect equilibrium between the interior and exterior
pressure, which thus neutralise each other, and which allows you to bear it
without inconvenience. But in the water it is another thing."
"Yes, I understand," replied Ned, becoming more attentive;
"because the water surrounds me, but does not penetrate."
"Precisely, Ned: so that at 32 feet beneath the surface of
the sea you would undergo a pressure of 97,500 lb.; at 320 feet, ten times that
pressure; at 3,200 feet, a hundred times that pressure; lastly, at 32,000 feet,
a thousand times that pressure would be 97,500,000 lb. -- that is to say, that
you would be flattened as if you had been drawn from the plates of a hydraulic
machine!"
"The devil!" exclaimed Ned.
"Very well, my worthy harpooner, if some vertebrate,
several hundred yards long, and large in proportion, can maintain itself in such
depths -- of those whose surface is represented by millions of square inches,
that is by tens of millions of pounds, we must estimate the pressure they
undergo. Consider, then, what must be the resistance of their bony structure,
and the strength of their organisation to withstand such pressure!"
"Why!" exclaimed Ned Land, "they must be made of iron
plates eight inches thick, like the armoured frigates."
"As you say, Ned. And think what destruction such a mass
would cause, if hurled with the speed of an express train against the hull of a
vessel."
"Yes -- certainly -- perhaps," replied the Canadian,
shaken by these figures, but not yet willing to give in.
"Well, have I convinced you?"
"You have convinced me of one thing, sir, which is that,
if such animals do exist at the bottom of the seas, they must necessarily be as
strong as you say."
"But if they do not exist, mine obstinate harpooner, how
explain the accident to the Scotia?"
-25-
AT A VENTURE
THE voyage of the Abraham Lincoln was for a long time
marked by no special incident. But one circumstance happened which showed the
wonderful dexterity of Ned Land, and proved what confidence we might place in
him.
The 30th of June, the frigate spoke some American whalers,
from whom we learned that they knew nothing about the narwhal. But one of them,
the captain of the Monroe, knowing that Ned Land had shipped on board the
Abraham Lincoln, begged for his help in chasing a whale they had in sight.
Commander Farragut, desirous of seeing Ned Land at work, gave him permission to
go on board the Monroe. And fate served our Canadian so well that, instead of
one whale, he harpooned two with a double blow, striking one straight to the
heart, and catching the other after some minutes' pursuit.
Decidedly, if the monster ever had to do with Ned Land's
harpoon, I would not bet in its favour.
The frigate skirted the south-east coast of America with
great rapidity. The 3rd of July we were at the opening of the Straits of
Magellan, level with Cape Vierges. But Commander Farragut would not take a
tortuous passage, but doubled Cape Horn.
The ship's crew agreed with him. And certainly it was
possible that they might meet the narwhal in this narrow pass. Many of the
sailors affirmed that the monster could not pass there, "that he was too big for
that!"
The 6th of July, about three o'clock in the afternoon, the
Abraham Lincoln, at fifteen miles to the south, doubled the solitary island,
this lost rock at the extremity of the American continent, to which some Dutch
sailors gave the name of their native town, Cape Horn. The course was taken
towards the north-west, and the next day the screw of the frigate was at last
beating the waters of the Pacific.
"Keep your eyes open!" called out the sailors.
And they were opened widely. Both eyes and glasses, a
-26-
little dazzled, it is true, by the prospect of two thousand dollars, had not an
instant's repose.
I myself, for whom money had no charms, was not the least
attentive on board. Giving but few minutes to my meals, but a few hours to
sleep, indifferent to either rain or sunshine, I did not leave the poop of the
vessel. Now leaning on the netting of the forecastle, now on the taffrail, I
devoured with eagerness the soft foam which whitened the sea as far as the eye
could reach; and how often have I shared the emotion of the majority of the
crew, when some capricious whale raised its black back above the waves! The poop
of the vessel was crowded on a moment. The cabins poured forth a torrent of
sailors and officers, each with heaving breast and troubled eye watching the
course of the cetacean. I looked and looked till I was nearly blind, whilst
Conseil kept repeating in a calm voice:
"If, sir, you would not squint so much, you would see
better!"
But vain excitement! The Abraham Lincoln checked its speed
and made for the animal signalled, a simple whale, or common cachalot, which
soon disappeared amidst a storm of abuse.
But the weather was good. The voyage was being
accomplished under the most favourable auspices. It was then the bad season in
Australia, the July of that zone corresponding to our January in Europe, but the
sea was beautiful and easily scanned round a vast circumference.
The 20th of July, the tropic of Capricorn was cut by 105o
of longitude, and the 27th of the same month we crossed the Equator on the 110th
meridian. This passed, the frigate took a more decided westerly direction, and
scoured the central waters of the Pacific. Commander Farragut thought, and with
reason, that it was better to remain in deep water, and keep clear of continents
or islands, which the beast itself seemed to shun (perhaps because there was not
enough water for him! suggested the greater part of the crew). The frigate
passed at some distance from the Marquesas and the Sandwich Islands, crossed the
tropic of Cancer, and made for the China Seas. We were on the theatre of the
last diversions
-27-
of the monster: and, to say truth, we no longer lived on board. The entire
ship's crew were undergoing a nervous excitement, of which I can give no idea:
they could not eat, they could not sleep -- twenty times a day, a misconception
or an optical illusion of some sailor seated on the taff rail, would cause
dreadful perspirations, and these emotions, twenty times repeated, kept us in a
state of excitement so violent that a reaction was unavoidable.
And truly, reaction soon showed itself. For three months,
during which a day seemed an age, the Abraham Lincoln furrowed all the waters of
the Northern Pacific, running at whales, making sharp deviations from her
course, veering suddenly from one tack to another, stopping suddenly, putting on
steam, and backing ever and anon at the risk of deranging her machinery, and not
one point of the Japanese or American coast was left unexplored.
The warmest partisans of the enterprise now became its
most ardent detractors. Reaction mounted from the crew to the captain himself,
and certainly, had it not been for the resolute determination on the part of
Captain Farragut, the frigate would have headed due southward. This useless
search could not last much longer. The Abraham Lincoln had nothing to reproach
herself with, she had done her best to succeed. Never had an American ship's
crew shown more zeal or patience; its failure could not be placed to their
charge -- there remained nothing but to return.
This was represented to the commander. The sailors could
not hide their discontent, and the service suffered. I will not say there was a
mutiny on board, but after a reasonable period of obstinacy, Captain Farragut
(as Columbus did) asked for three days' patience. If in three days the monster
did not appear, the man at the helm should give three turns of the wheel, and
the Abraham Lincoln would make for the European seas.
This promise was made on the 2nd of November. It had the
effect of rallying the ship's crew. The ocean was watched with renewed
attention. Each one wished for a last glance in which to sum up his remembrance.
Glasses were used with feverish activity. It was a grand defiance given to the
giant
-28-
narwhal, and he could scarcely fail to answer the summons and "appear."
Two days passed, the steam was at half pressure; a
thousand schemes were tried to attract the attention and stimulate the apathy of
the animal in case it should be met in those parts. Large quantities of bacon
were trailed in the wake of the ship, to the great satisfaction (I must say) of
the sharks. Small craft radiated in all directions round the Abraham Lincoln as
she lay to, and did not leave a spot of the sea unexplored. But the night of the
4th of November arrived without the unveiling of this submarine mystery.
The next day, the 5th of November, at twelve, the delay
would (morally speaking) expire; after that time, Commander Farragut, faithful
to his promise, was to turn the course to the south-east and abandon for ever
the northern regions of the Pacific.
The frigate was then in 31o 15' N. lat. and 136o
42' E. long. The coast of Japan still remained less than two hundred miles to
leeward. Night was approaching. They had just struck eight bells; large clouds
veiled the face of the moon, then in its first quarter. The sea undulated
peaceably under the stern of the vessel.
At that moment I was leaning forward on the starboard
netting. Conseil, standing near me, was looking straight before him. The crew,
perched in the ratlines, examined the horizon which contracted and darkened by
degrees. Officers with their night glasses scoured the growing darkness:
sometimes the ocean sparkled under the rays of the moon, which darted between
two clouds, then all trace of light was lost in the darkness.
In looking at Conseil, I could see he was undergoing a
little of the general influence. At least I thought so. Perhaps for the first
time his nerves vibrated to a sentiment of curiosity.
"Come, Conseil," said I, "this is the last chance of
pocketing the two thousand dollars."
"May I be permitted to say, sir," replied Conseil, "that I
never reckoned on getting the prize; and, had the government
-29-
of the Union offered a hundred thousand dollars, it would have been none the
poorer."
"You are right, Conseil. It is a foolish affair after all,
and one upon which we entered too lightly. What time lost, what useless
emotions! We should have been back in France six months ago."
"In your little room, sir," replied Conseil, "and in your
museum, sir; and I should have already classed all your fossils, sir. And the
Babiroussa would have been installed in its cage in the Jardin des Plantes, and
have drawn all the curious people of the capital!"
"As you say, Conseil. I fancy we shall run a fair chance
of being laughed at for our pains."
"That's tolerably certain," replied Conseil, quietly; "I
think they will make fun of you, sir. And, must I say it -- ?"
"Go on, my good friend."
"Well, sir, you will only get your deserts."
"Indeed!"
"When one has the honour of being a savant as you are,
sir, one should not expose one's self to -- "
Conseil had not time to finish his compliment. In the
midst of general silence a voice had just been heard. It was the voice of Ned
Land shouting:
"Look out there! The very thing we are looking for -- on
our weather beam!"
AT FULL STEAM
AT THIS cry the whole ship's crew hurried towards the
harpooner -- commander, officers, masters, sailors, cabin-boys; even the
engineers left their engines, and the stokers their furnaces.
The order to stop her had been given, and the frigate now
simply went on by her own momentum. The darkness was then profound, and, however
good the Canadian's eyes
-30-
were, I asked myself how he had managed to see, and what he had been able to
see. My heart beat as if it would break. But Ned Land was not mistaken, and we
all perceived the object he pointed to. At two cables' length from the Abraham
Lincoln, on the starboard quarter, the sea seemed to be illuminated all over. It
was not a mere phosphoric phenomenon. The monster emerged some fathoms from the
water, and then threw out that very intense but mysterious light mentioned in
the report of several captains. This magnificent irradiation must have been
produced by an agent of great shining power. The luminous part traced on the sea
an immense oval, much elongated, the centre of which condensed a burning heat,
whose overpowering brilliancy died out by successive gradations.
"It is only a massing of phosphoric particles," cried one
of the officers.
"No, sir, certainly not," I replied. "That brightness is
of an essentially electrical nature. Besides, see, see! it moves; it is moving
forwards, backwards; it is darting towards us!"
A general cry arose from the frigate.
"Silence!" said the captain. "Up with the helm, reverse
the engines."
The steam was shut off, and the Abraham Lincoln, beating
to port, described a semicircle.
"Right the helm, go ahead," cried the captain.
These orders were executed, and the frigate moved rapidly
from the burning light.
I was mistaken. She tried to sheer off, but the
supernatural animal approached with a velocity double her own.
We gasped for breath. Stupefaction more than fear made us
dumb and motionless. The animal gained on us, sporting with the waves. It made
the round of the frigate, which was then making fourteen knots, and enveloped it
with its electric rings like luminous dust.
Then it moved away two or three miles, leaving a
phosphorescent track, like those volumes of steam that the express trains leave
behind. All at once from the dark line of the horizon whither it retired to gain
its momentum, the monster rushed suddenly towards the Abraham Lincoln with
-31-
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 re-appeared on the other side of the vessel, as if it had turned and slid
under the hull. Any moment a collision might have occurred which would have been
fatal to us. However, I was astonished at the manoeuvres of the frigate. She
fled and did not attack.
On the captain's face, generally so impassive, was an
expression of unaccountable astonishment.
"Mr. Aronnax," he said, "I do not know with what
formidable being I have to deal, and I will not imprudently risk my frigate in
the midst of this darkness. Besides, how attack this unknown thing, how defend
one's self from it? Wait for daylight, and the scene will change."
"You have no further doubt, captain, of the nature of the
animal?"
"No, sir; it is evidently a gigantic narwhal, and an
electric one."
"Perhaps," added I, "one can only approach it with a
torpedo."
"Undoubtedly," replied the captain, "if it possesses such
dreadful power, it is the most terrible animal that ever was created. That is
why, sir, I must be on my guard."
The crew were on their feet all night. No one thought of
sleep. The Abraham Lincoln, not being able to struggle with such velocity, had
moderated its pace, and sailed at half speed. For its part, the narwhal,
imitating the frigate, let the waves rock it at will, and seemed decided not to
leave the scene of the struggle. Towards midnight, however, it disappeared, or,
to use a more appropriate term, it "died out" like a large glow-worm. Had it
fled? One could only fear, not hope it. But at seven minutes to one o'clock in
the morning a deafening whistling was heard, like that produced by a body of
water rushing with great violence.
The captain, Ned Land, and I were then on the poop,
eagerly peering through the profound darkness.
-32-
"Ned Land," asked the commander, "you have often heard the
roaring of whales?"
"Often, sir; but never such whales the sight of which
brought me in two thousand dollars. If I can only approach within four harpoons'
length of it!"
"But to approach it," said the commander, "I ought to put
a whaler at your disposal?"
"Certainly, sir."
"That will be trifling with the lives of my men."
"And mine too," simply said the harpooner.
Towards two o'clock in the morning, the burning light
reappeared, not less intense, about five miles to windward of the Abraham
Lincoln. Notwithstanding the distance, and the noise of the wind and sea, one
heard distinctly the loud strokes of the animal's tail, and even its panting
breath. It seemed that, at the moment that the enormous narwhal had come to take
breath at the surface of the water, the air was engulfed in its lungs, like the
steam in the vast cylinders of a machine of two thousand horse-power.
"Hum!" thought I, "a whale with the strength of a cavalry
regiment would be a pretty whale!"
We were on the qui vive till daylight, and prepared for
the combat. The fishing implements were laid along the hammock nettings. The
second lieutenant loaded the blunder-busses, which could throw harpoons to the
distance of a mile, and long duck-guns, with explosive bullets, which inflicted
mortal wounds even to the most terrible animals. Ned Land contented himself with
sharpening his harpoon -- a terrible weapon in his hands.
At six o'clock day began to break; and, with the first
glimmer of light, the electric light of the narwhal disappeared. At seven
o'clock the day was sufficiently advanced, but a very thick sea fog obscured our
view, and the best spy-glasses could not pierce it. That caused disappointment
and anger.
I climbed the mizzen-mast. Some officers were already
perched on the mast-heads. At eight o'clock the fog lay heavily on the waves,
and its thick scrolls rose little by little.
-33-
The horizon grew wider and clearer at the same time. Suddenly, just as on the
day before, Ned Land's voice was heard:
"The thing itself on the port quarter!" cried the
harpooner.
Every eye was turned towards the point indicated. There, a
mile and a half from the frigate, a long blackish body emerged a yard above the
waves. Its tail, violently agitated, produced a considerable eddy. Never did a
tail beat the sea with such violence. An immense track, of dazzling whiteness,
marked the passage of the animal, and described a long curve.
The frigate approached the cetacean. I examined it
thoroughly.
The reports of the Shannon and of the Helvetia had rather
exaggerated its size, and I estimated its length at only two hundred and fifty
feet. As to its dimensions, I could only conjecture them to be admirably
proportioned. While I watched this phenomenon, two jets of steam and water were
ejected from its vents, and rose to the height of 120 feet; thus I ascertained
its way of breathing. I concluded definitely that it belonged to the vertebrate
branch, class mammalia.
The crew waited impatiently for their chief's orders. The
latter, after having observed the animal attentively, called the engineer. The
engineer ran to him.
"Sir," said the commander, "you have steam up?"
"Yes, sir," answered the engineer.
"Well, make up your fires and put on all steam."
Three hurrahs greeted this order. The time for the
struggle had arrived. Some moments after, the two funnels of the frigate vomited
torrents of black smoke, and the bridge quaked under the trembling of the
boilers.
The Abraham Lincoln, propelled by her wonderful screw,
went straight at the animal. The latter allowed it to come within half a cable's
length; then, as if disdaining to dive, it took a little turn, and stopped a
short distance off.
This pursuit lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour,
without the frigate gaining two yards on the cetacean. it
-34-
was quite evident that at that rate we should never come up with it.
"Well, Mr. Land," asked the captain, "do you advise me to
put the boats out to sea?"
"No, sir," replied Ned Land; "because we shall not take
that beast easily."
"What shall we do then?"
"Put on more steam if you can, sir. With your leave, I
mean to post myself under the bowsprit, and, if we get within harpooning
distance, I shall throw my harpoon."
"Go, Ned," said the captain. "Engineer, put on more
pressure."
Ned Land went to his post. The fires were increased, the
screw revolved forty-three times a minute, and the steam poured out of the
valves. We heaved the log, and calculated that the Abraham Lincoln was going at
the rate of 18 1/2 miles an hour.
But the accursed animal swam at the same speed.
For a whole hour the frigate kept up this pace, without
gaining six feet. It was humiliating for one of the swiftest sailers in the
American navy. A stubborn anger seized the crew; the sailors abused the monster,
who, as before, disdained to answer them; the captain no longer contented
himself with twisting his beard -- he gnawed it.
The engineer was called again.
"You have turned full steam on?"
"Yes, sir," replied the engineer.
The speed of the Abraham Lincoln increased. Its masts
trembled down to their stepping holes, and the clouds of smoke could hardly find
way out of the narrow funnels.
They heaved the log a second time.
"Well?" asked the captain of the man at the wheel.
"Nineteen miles and three-tenths, sir."
"Clap on more steam."
The engineer obeyed. The manometer showed ten degrees. But
the cetacean grew warm itself, no doubt; for without straining itself, it made
19 3/10 miles.
What a pursuit! No, I cannot describe the emotion that
vibrated through me. Ned Land kept his post, harpoon in
-35-
hand. Several times the animal let us gain upon it. -- "We shall catch it! we
shall catch it!" cried the Canadian. But just as he was going to strike, the
cetacean stole away with a rapidity that could not be estimated at less than
thirty miles an hour, and even during our maximum of speed, it bullied the
frigate, going round and round it. A cry of fury broke from everyone!
At noon we were no further advanced than at eight o'clock
in the morning.
The captain then decided to take more direct means.
"Ah!" said he, "that animal goes quicker than the Abraham
Lincoln. Very well! we will see whether it will escape these conical bullets.
Send your men to the forecastle, sir."
The forecastle gun was immediately loaded and slewed
round. But the shot passed some feet above the cetacean, which was half a mile
off.
"Another, more to the right," cried the commander, "and
five dollars to whoever will hit that infernal beast."
An old gunner with a grey beard -- that I can see now --
with steady eye and grave face, went up to the gun and took a long aim. A loud
report was heard, with which were mingled the cheers of the crew.
The bullet did its work; it hit the animal, and, sliding
off the rounded surface, was lost in two miles depth of sea.
The chase began again, and the captain, leaning towards
me, said:
"I will pursue that beast till my frigate bursts up."
"Yes," answered I; "and you will be quite right to do it."
I wished the beast would exhaust itself, and not be
insensible to fatigue like a steam engine. But it was of no use. Hours passed,
without its showing any signs of exhaustion.
However, it must be said in praise of the Abraham Lincoln
that she struggled on indefatigably. I cannot reckon the distance she made under
three hundred miles during this unlucky day, November the 6th. But night came
on, and overshadowed the rough ocean.
Now I thought our expedition was at an end, and that we
should never again see the extraordinary animal. I was mistaken. At ten minutes
to eleven in the evening, the electric
-36-
light reappeared three miles to windward of the frigate, as pure, as intense as
during the preceding night.
The narwhal seemed motionless; perhaps, tired with its
day's work, it slept, letting itself float with the undulation of the waves. Now
was a chance of which the captain resolved to take advantage.
He gave his orders. The Abraham Lincoln kept up
half-steam, and advanced cautiously so as not to awake its adversary. It is no
rare thing to meet in the middle of the ocean whales so sound asleep that they
can be successfully attacked, and Ned Land had harpooned more than one during
its sleep. The Canadian went to take his place again under the bowsprit.
The frigate approached noiselessly, stopped at two cables'
lengths from the animal, and following its track. No one breathed; a deep
silence reigned on the bridge. We were not a hundred feet from the burning
focus, the light of which increased and dazzled our eyes.
At this moment, leaning on the forecastle bulwark, I saw
below me Ned Land grappling the martingale in one hand, brandishing his terrible
harpoon in the other, scarcely twenty feet from the motionless animal. Suddenly
his arm straightened, and the harpoon was thrown; I heard the sonorous stroke of
the weapon, which seemed to have struck a hard body. The electric light went out
suddenly, and two enormous waterspouts broke over the bridge of the frigate,
rushing like a torrent from stem to stern, overthrowing men, and breaking the
lashings of the spars. A fearful shock followed, and, thrown over the rail
without having time to stop myself, I fell into the sea.
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
-37-
(though without pretending to rival Byron or Edgar Poe, who were masters of the
art), and in that plunge I did not lose my presence of mind. Two vigorous
strokes brought me to the surface of the water. My first care was to look for
the frigate. Had the crew seen me disappear? Had the Abraham Lincoln veered
round? Would the captain put out a boat? Might I hope to be saved?
The darkness was intense. I caught a glimpse of a black
mass disappearing in the east, its beacon lights dying out in the distance. It
was the frigate! I was lost.
"Help, help!" I shouted, swimming towards the Abraham
Lincoln in desperation.
My clothes encumbered me; they seemed glued to my body,
and paralysed my movements.
I was sinking! I was suffocating!
"Help!"
This was my last cry. My mouth filled with water; I
struggled against being drawn down the abyss. Suddenly my clothes were seized by
a strong hand, and I felt myself quickly drawn up to the surface of the sea; and
I heard, yes, I heard these words pronounced in my ear:
"If master would be so good as to lean on my shoulder,
master would swim with much greater ease."
I seized with one hand my faithful Conseil's arm.
"Is it you?" said I, "you?"
"Myself," answered Conseil; "and waiting master's orders."
"That shock threw you as well as me into the sea?"
"No; but, being in my master's service, I followed him."
The worthy fellow thought that was but natural.
"And the frigate?" I asked.
"The frigate?" replied Conseil, turning on his back; "I
think that master had better not count too much on her."
"You think so?"
"I say that, at the time I threw myself into the sea, I
heard the men at the wheel say, 'The screw and the rudder are broken.'
"Broken?"
"Yes, broken by the monster's teeth. It is the only injury
-38-
the Abraham Lincoln has sustained. But it is a bad look-out for us -- she no
longer answers her helm."
"Then we are lost!"
"Perhaps so," calmly answered Conseil. "However, we have
still several hours before us, and one can do a good deal in some hours."
Conseil's imperturbable coolness set me up again. I swam
more vigorously; but, cramped by my clothes, which stuck to me like a leaden
weight, I felt great difficulty in bearing up. Conseil saw this.
"Will master let me make a slit?" said he; and, slipping
an open knife under my clothes, he ripped them up from top to bottom very
rapidly. Then he cleverly slipped them off me, while I swam for both of us.
Then I did the same for Conseil, and we continued to swim
near to each other.
Nevertheless, our situation was no less terrible. Perhaps
our disappearance had not been noticed; and, if it had been, the frigate could
not tack, being without its helm. Conseil argued on this supposition, and laid
his plans accordingly. This quiet boy was perfectly self-possessed. We then
decided that, as our only chance of safety was being picked up by the Abraham
Lincoln's boats, we ought to manage so as to wait for them as long as possible.
I resolved then to husband our strength, so that both should not be exhausted at
the same time; and this is how we managed: while one of us lay on our back,
quite still, with arms crossed, and legs stretched out, the other would swim and
push the other on in front. This towing business did not last more than ten
minutes each; and relieving each other thus, we could swim on for some hours,
perhaps till day-break. Poor chance! but hope is so firmly rooted in the heart
of man! Moreover, there were two of us. Indeed I declare (though it may seem
improbable) if I sought to destroy all hope -- if I wished to despair, I could
not.
The collision of the frigate with the cetacean had
occurred about eleven o'clock in the evening before. I reckoned then we should
have eight hours to swim before sunrise, an operation quite practicable if we
relieved each other. The
-39-
sea, very calm, was in our favour. Sometimes I tried to pierce the intense
darkness that was only dispelled by the phosphorescence caused by our movements.
I watched the luminous waves that broke over my hand, whose mirror-like surface
was spotted with silvery rings. One might have said that we were in a bath of
quicksilver.
Near one o'clock in the morning, I was seized with
dreadful fatigue. My limbs stiffened under the strain of violent cramp. Conseil
was obliged to keep me up, and our preservation devolved on him alone. I heard
the poor boy pant; his breathing became short and hurried. I found that he could
not keep up much longer.
"Leave me! leave me!" I said to him.
"Leave my master? Never!" replied he. "I would drown
first."
Just then the moon appeared through the fringes of a thick
cloud that the wind was driving to the east. The surface of the sea glittered
with its rays. This kindly light reanimated us. My head got better again. I
looked at all points of the horizon. I saw the frigate! She was five miles from
us, and looked like a dark mass, hardly discernible. But no boats!
I would have cried out. But what good would it have been
at such a distance! My swollen lips could utter no sounds. Conseil could
articulate some words, and I heard him repeat at intervals, "Help! help!"
Our movements were suspended for an instant; we listened.
It might be only a singing in the ear, but it seemed to me as if a cry answered
the cry from Conseil.
"Did you hear?" I murmured.
"Yes! Yes!"
And Conseil gave one more despairing cry.
This time there was no mistake! A human voice responded to
ours! Was it the voice of another unfortunate creature, abandoned in the middle
of the ocean, some other victim of the shock sustained by the vessel? Or rather
was it a boat from the frigate, that was hailing us in the darkness?
Conseil made a last effort, and, leaning on my shoulder,
while I struck out in a desperate effort, he raised himself half out of the
water, then fell back exhausted.
-40-
"What did you see?"
"I saw -- " murmured he; "I saw -- but do not talk --
reserve all your strength!"
What had he seen? Then, I know not why, the thought of the
monster came into my head for the first time! But that voice! The time is past
for Jonahs to take refuge in whales' bellies! However, Conseil was towing me
again. He raised his head sometimes, looked before us, and uttered a cry of
recognition, which was responded to by a voice that came nearer and nearer. I
scarcely heard it. My strength was exhausted; my fingers stiffened; my hand
afforded me support no longer; my mouth, convulsively opening, filled with salt
water. Cold crept over me. I raised my head for the last time, then I sank.
At this moment a hard body struck me. I clung to it: then
I felt that I was being drawn up, that I was brought to the surface of the
water, that my chest collapsed -- I fainted.
It is certain that I soon came to, thanks to the vigorous
rubbings that I received. I half opened my eyes.
"Conseil!" I murmured.
"Does master call me?" asked Conseil.
Just then, by the waning light of the moon which was
sinking down to the horizon, I saw a face which was not Conseil's and which I
immediately recognised.
"Ned!" I cried.
"The same, sir, who is seeking his prize!" replied the
Canadian.
"Were you thrown into the sea by the shock to the
frigate?"
"Yes, Professor; but more fortunate than you, I was able
to find a footing almost directly upon a floating island."
"An island?"
"Or, more correctly speaking, on our gigantic narwhal."
"Explain yourself, Ned!"
"Only I soon found out why my harpoon had not entered its
skin and was blunted."
"Why, Ned, why?"
"Because, Professor, that beast is made of sheet iron."
-41-
The Canadian's last words produced a sudden revolution in
my brain. I wriggled myself quickly to the top of the being, or object, half out
of the water, which served us for a refuge. I kicked it. It was evidently a
hard, impenetrable body, and not the soft substance that forms the bodies of the
great marine mammalia. But this hard body might be a bony covering, like that of
the antediluvian animals; and I should be free to class this monster among
amphibious reptiles, such as tortoises or alligators.
Well, no! the blackish back that supported me was smooth,
polished, without scales. The blow produced a metallic sound; and, incredible
though it may be, it seemed, I might say, as if it was made of riveted plates.
There was no doubt about it! This monster, this natural
phenomenon that had puzzled the learned world, and overthrown and misled the
imagination of seamen of both hemispheres, it must be owned was a still more
astonishing phenomenon, inasmuch as it was a simply human construction.
We had no time to lose, however. We were lying upon the
back of a sort of submarine boat, which appeared (as far as I could judge) like
a huge fish of steel. Ned Land's mind was made up on this point. Conseil and I
could only agree with him.
Just then a bubbling began at the back of this strange
thing (which was evidently propelled by a screw), and it began to move. We had
only just time to seize hold of the upper part, which rose about seven feet out
of the water, and happily its speed was not great.
"As long as it sails horizontally," muttered Ned Land, "I
do not mind; but, if it takes a fancy to dive, I would not give two straws for
my life."
The Canadian might have said still less. It became really
necessary to communicate with the beings, whatever they were, shut up inside the
machine. I searched all over the outside for an aperture, a panel, or a manhole,
to use a technical expression; but the lines of the iron rivets, solidly driven
into the joints of the iron plates, were clear and
-42-
uniform. Besides, the moon disappeared then, and left us in total darkness.
At last this long night passed. My indistinct remembrance
prevents my describing all the impressions it made. I can only recall one
circumstance. During some lulls of the wind and sea, I fancied I heard several
times vague sounds, a sort of fugitive harmony produced by words of command.
What was, then, the mystery of this submarine craft, of which the whole world
vainly sought an explanation? What kind of beings existed in this strange boat?
What mechanical agent caused its prodigious speed?
Daybreak appeared. The morning mists surrounded us, but
they soon cleared off. I was about to examine the hull, which formed on deck a
kind of horizontal platform, when I felt it gradually sinking.
"Oh! confound it!" cried Ned Land, kicking the resounding
plate. "Open, you inhospitable rascals!"
Happily the sinking movement ceased. Suddenly a noise,
like iron works violently pushed aside, came from the interior of the boat. One
iron plate was moved, a man appeared, uttered an odd cry, and disappeared
immediately.
Some moments after, eight strong men, with masked faces,
appeared noiselessly, and drew us down into their formidable machine.
MOBILIS IN MOBILI
THIS forcible abduction, so roughly carried out, was
accomplished with the rapidity of lightning. I shivered all over. Whom had we to
deal with? No doubt some new sort of pirates, who explored the sea in their own
way. Hardly had the narrow panel closed upon me, when I was enveloped in
darkness. My eyes, dazzled with the outer light, could distinguish nothing. I
felt my naked feet cling to the rungs of an iron ladder. Ned Land and Conseil,
firmly seized, followed
-43-
me. At the bottom of the ladder, a door opened, and shut after us immediately
with a bang.
We were alone. Where, I could not say, hardly imagine. All
was black, and such a dense black that, after some minutes, my eyes had not been
able to discern even the faintest glimmer.
Meanwhile, Ned Land, furious at these proceedings, gave
free vent to his indignation.
"Confound it!" cried he, "here are people who come up to
the Scotch for hospitality. They only just miss being cannibals. I should not be
surprised at it, but I declare that they shall not eat me without my
protesting."
"Calm yourself, friend Ned, calm yourself," replied
Conseil, quietly. "Do not cry out before you are hurt. We are not quite done for
yet."
"Not quite," sharply replied the Canadian, "but pretty
near, at all events. Things look black. Happily, my bowie-knife I have still,
and I can always see well enough to use it. The first of these pirates who lays
a hand on me -- "
"Do not excite yourself, Ned," I said to the harpooner,
"and do not compromise us by useless violence. Who knows that they will not
listen to us? Let us rather try to find out where we are."
I groped about. In five steps I came to an iron wall, made
of plates bolted together. Then turning back I struck against a wooden table,
near which were ranged several stools. The boards of this prison were concealed
under a thick mat, which deadened the noise of the feet. The bare walls revealed
no trace of window or door. Conseil, going round the reverse way, met me, and we
went back to the middle of the cabin, which measured about twenty feet by ten.
As to its height, Ned Land, in spite of his own great height, could not measure
it.
Half an hour had already passed without our situation
being bettered, when the dense darkness suddenly gave way to extreme light. Our
prison was suddenly lighted, that is to say, it became filled with a luminous
matter, so strong that I could not bear it at first. In its whiteness and
intensity I recognised that electric light which played round the
-44-
submarine boat like a magnificent phenomenon of phosphorescence. After shutting
my eyes involuntarily, I opened them, and saw that this luminous agent came from
a half globe, unpolished, placed in the roof of the cabin.
"At last one can see," cried Ned Land, who, knife in hand,
stood on the defensive.
"Yes," said I; "but we are still in the dark about
ourselves."
"Let master have patience," said the imperturbable Conseil.
The sudden lighting of the cabin enabled me to examine it
minutely. It only contained a table and five stools. The invisible door might be
hermetically sealed. No noise was heard. All seemed dead in the interior of this
boat. Did it move, did it float on the surface of the ocean, or did it dive into
its depths? I could not guess.
A noise of bolts was now heard, the door opened, and two
men appeared.
One was short, very muscular, broad-shouldered, with
robust limbs, strong head, an abundance of black hair, thick moustache, a quick
penetrating look, and the vivacity which characterises the population of
Southern France.
The second stranger merits a more detailed description. I
made out his prevailing qualities directly: self-confidence -- because his head
was well set on his shoulders, and his black eyes looked around with cold
assurance; calmness -- for his skin, rather pale, showed his coolness of blood;
energy -- evinced by the rapid contraction of his lofty brows; and courage --
because his deep breathing denoted great power of lungs.
Whether this person was thirty-five or fifty years of age,
I could not say. He was tall, had a large forehead, straight nose, a clearly cut
mouth, beautiful teeth, with fine taper hands, indicative of a highly nervous
temperament. This man was certainly the most admirable specimen I had ever met.
One particular feature was his eyes, rather far from each other, and which could
take in nearly a quarter of the horizon at once.
This faculty -- (I verified it later) -- gave him a range
of
-45-
vision far superior to Ned Land's. When this stranger fixed upon an object, his
eyebrows met, his large eyelids closed around so as to contract the range of his
vision, and he looked as if he magnified the objects lessened by distance, as if
he pierced those sheets of water so opaque to our eyes, and as if he read the
very depths of the seas.
The two strangers, with caps made from the fur of the sea
otter, and shod with sea boots of seal's skin, were dressed in clothes of a
particular texture, which allowed free movement of the limbs. The taller of the
two, evidently the chief on board, examined us with great attention, without
saying a word; then, turning to his companion, talked with him in an unknown
tongue. It was a sonorous, harmonious, and flexible dialect, the vowels seeming
to admit of very varied accentuation.
The other replied by a shake of the head, and added two or
three perfectly incomprehensible words. Then he seemed to question me by a look.
I replied in good French that I did not know his language;
but he seemed not to understand me, and my situation became more embarrassing.
"If master were to tell our story," said Conseil, "perhaps
these gentlemen may understand some words."
I began to tell our adventures, articulating each syllable
clearly, and without omitting one single detail. I announced our names and rank,
introducing in person Professor Aronnax, his servant Conseil, and master Ned
Land, the harpooner.
The man with the soft calm eyes listened to me quietly,
even politely, and with extreme attention; but nothing in his countenance
indicated that he had understood my story. When I finished, he said not a word.
There remained one resource, to speak English. Perhaps
they would know this almost universal language. I knew it -- as well as the
German language -- well enough to read it fluently, but not to speak it
correctly. But, anyhow, we must make ourselves understood.
"Go on in your turn," I said to the harpooner; "speak your
best Anglo-Saxon, and try to do better than I."
-46-
Ned did not beg off, and recommenced our story.
To his great disgust, the harpooner did not seem to have
made himself more intelligible than I had. Our visitors did not stir. They
evidently understood neither the language of England nor of France.
Very much embarrassed, after having vainly exhausted our
speaking resources, I knew not what part to take, when Conseil said:
"If master will permit me, I will relate it in German."
But in spite of the elegant terms and good accent of the
narrator, the German language had no success. At last, nonplussed, I tried to
remember my first lessons, and to narrate our adventures in Latin, but with no
better success. This last attempt being of no avail, the two strangers exchanged
some words in their unknown language, and retired.
The door shut.
"It is an infamous shame," cried Ned Land, who broke out
for the twentieth time. "We speak to those rogues in French, English, German,
and Latin, and not one of them has the politeness to answer!"
"Calm yourself," I said to the impetuous Ned; "anger will
do no good."
"But do you see, Professor," replied our irascible
companion, "that we shall absolutely die of hunger in this iron cage?"
"Bah!" said Conseil, philosophically; "we can hold out
some time yet."
"My friends," I said, "we must not despair. We have been
worse off than this. Do me the favour to wait a little before forming an opinion
upon the commander and crew of this boat."
"My opinion is formed," replied Ned Land, sharply. "They
are rascals."
"Good! and from what country?"
"From the land of rogues!"
"My brave Ned, that country is not clearly indicated on
the map of the world; but I admit that the nationality of the two strangers is
hard to determine. Neither English, French, nor German, that is quite certain.
However, I am
-47-
inclined to think that the commander and his companion were born in low
latitudes. There is southern blood in them. But I cannot decide by their
appearance whether they are Spaniards, Turks, Arabians, or Indians. As to their
language, it is quite incomprehensible."
"There is the disadvantage of not knowing all languages,"
said Conseil, "or the disadvantage of not having one universal language."
As he said these words, the door opened. A steward
entered. He brought us clothes, coats and trousers, made of a stuff I did not
know. I hastened to dress myself, and my companions followed my example. During
that time, the steward -- dumb, perhaps deaf -- had arranged the table, and laid
three plates.
"This is something like!" said Conseil.
"Bah!" said the angry harpooner, "what do you suppose they
eat here? Tortoise liver, filleted shark, and beef-steaks from seadogs."
"We shall see," said Conseil.
The dishes, of bell metal, were placed on the table, and
we took our places. Undoubtedly we had to do with civilised people, and, had it
not been for the electric light which flooded us, I could have fancied I was in
the dining-room of the Adelphi Hotel at Liverpool, or at the Grand Hotel in
Paris. I must say, however, that there was neither bread nor wine. The water was
fresh and clear, but it was water and did not suit Ned Land's taste. Amongst the
dishes which were brought to us, I recognised several fish delicately dressed;
but of some, although excellent, I could give no opinion, neither could I tell
to what kingdom they belonged, whether animal or vegetable. As to the
dinner-service, it was elegant, and in perfect taste. Each utensil -- spoon,
fork, knife, plate -- had a letter engraved on it, with a motto above it, of
which this is an exact facsimile:
MOBILIS IN MOBILI
N
The letter N was no doubt the initial of the name of the
enigmatical person who commanded at the bottom of the seas.
-48-
Ned and Conseil did not reflect much. They devoured the
food, and I did likewise. I was, besides, reassured as to our fate; and it
seemed evident that our hosts would not let us die of want.
However, everything has an end, everything passes away,
even the hunger of people who have not eaten for fifteen hours. Our appetites
satisfied, we felt overcome with sleep.
"Faith! I shall sleep well," said Conseil.
"So shall I," replied Ned Land.
My two companions stretched themselves on the cabin
carpet, and were soon sound asleep. For my own part, too many thoughts crowded
my brain, too many insoluble questions pressed upon me, too many fancies kept my
eyes half open. Where were we? What strange power carried us on? I felt -- or
rather fancied I felt -- the machine sinking down to the lowest beds of the sea.
Dreadful nightmares beset me; I saw in these mysterious asylums a world of
unknown animals, amongst which this submarine boat seemed to be of the same
kind, living, moving, and formidable as they. Then my brain grew calmer, my
imagination wandered into vague unconsciousness, and I soon fell into a deep
sleep.
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
-49-
consumed a great part of the oxygen that it contained. Indeed, each man
consumes, in one hour, the oxygen contained in more than 176 pints of air, and
this air, charged (as then) with a nearly equal quantity of carbonic acid,
becomes unbreathable.
It became necessary to renew the atmosphere of our prison,
and no doubt the whole in the submarine boat. That gave rise to a question in my
mind. How would the commander of this floating dwelling-place proceed? Would he
obtain air by chemical means, in getting by heat the oxygen contained in
chlorate of potash, and in absorbing carbonic acid by caustic potash? Or -- a
more convenient, economical, and consequently more probable alternative -- would
he be satisfied to rise and take breath at the surface of the water, like a
whale, and so renew for twenty-four hours the atmospheric provision?
In fact, I was already obliged to increase my respirations
to eke out of this cell the little oxygen it contained, when suddenly I was
refreshed by a current of pure air, and perfumed with saline emanations. It was
an invigorating sea breeze, charged with iodine. I opened my mouth wide, and my
lungs saturated themselves with fresh particles.
At the same time I felt the boat rolling. The iron-plated
monster had evidently just risen to the surface of the ocean to breathe, after
the fashion of whales. I found out from that the mode of ventilating the boat.
When I had inhaled this air freely, I sought the conduit
pipe, which conveyed to us the beneficial whiff, and I was not long in finding
it. Above the door was a ventilator, through which volumes of fresh air renewed
the impoverished atmosphere of the cell.
I was making my observations, when Ned and Conseil awoke
almost at the same time, under the influence of this reviving air. They rubbed
their eyes, stretched themselves, and were on their feet in an instant.
"Did master sleep well?" asked Conseil, with his usual
politeness.
"Very well, my brave boy. And you, Mr. Land?"
-50-
"Soundly, Professor. But, I don't know if I am right or
not, there seems to be a sea breeze!"
A seaman could not be mistaken, and I told the Canadian
all that had passed during his sleep.
"Good!" said he. "That accounts for those roarings we
heard, when the supposed narwhal sighted the Abraham Lincoln."
"Quite so, Master Land; it was taking breath."
"Only, Mr. Aronnax, I have no idea what o'clock it is,
unless it is dinner-time."
"Dinner-time! my good fellow? Say rather breakfast-time,
for we certainly have begun another day."
"So," said Conseil, "we have slept twenty-four hours?"
"That is my opinion."
"I will not contradict you," replied Ned Land. "But,
dinner or breakfast, the steward will be welcome, whichever he brings."
"Master Land, we must conform to the rules on board, and I
suppose our appetites are in advance of the dinner-hour."
"That is just like you, friend Conseil," said Ned,
impatiently. "You are never out of temper, always calm; you would return thanks
before grace, and die of hunger rather than complain!"
Time was getting on, and we were fearfully hungry; and
this time the steward did not appear. It was rather too long to leave us, if
they really had good intentions towards us. Ned Land, tormented by the cravings
of hunger, got still more angry; and, notwithstanding his promise, I dreaded an
explosion when he found himself with one of the crew.
For two hours more Ned Land's temper increased; he cried,
he shouted, but in vain. The walls were deaf. There was no sound to be heard in
the boat; all was still as death. It did not move, for I should have felt the
trembling motion of the hull under the influence of the screw. Plunged in the
depths of the waters, it belonged no longer to earth: this silence was dreadful.
I felt terrified, Conseil was calm, Ned Land roared.
-51-
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?"
THE MAN OF THE SEAS
IT WAS the commander of the vessel who thus spoke.
At these words, Ned Land rose suddenly. The steward,
nearly strangled, tottered out on a sign from his master. But such was the power
of the commander on board, that not a gesture betrayed the resentment which this
man must have felt towards the Canadian. Conseil interested in spite of himself,
I stupefied, awaited in silence the result of this scene.
The commander, leaning against the corner of a table with
his arms folded, scanned us with profound attention. Did he hesitate to speak?
Did he regret the words which he had just spoken in French? One might almost
think so.
After some moments of silence, which not one of us dreamed
of breaking, "Gentlemen," said he, in a calm and penetrating voice, "I speak
French, English, German, and Latin equally well. I could, therefore, have
answered you at our first interview, but I wished to know you first, then to
reflect. The story told by each one, entirely agreeing in the main points,
convinced me of your identity. I know now that chance has brought before me M.
Pierre Aronnax, Professor of Natural History at the Museum of Paris,
-52-
entrusted with a scientific mission abroad, Conseil, his servant, and Ned Land,
of Canadian origin, harpooner on board the frigate Abraham Lincoln of the navy
of the United States of America."
I bowed assent. It was not a question that the commander
put to me. Therefore there was no answer to be made. This man expressed himself
with perfect ease, without any accent. His sentences were well turned, his words
clear, and his fluency of speech remarkable. Yet, I did not recognise in him a
fellow-countryman.
He continued the conversation in these terms:
"You have doubtless thought, sir, that I have delayed long
in paying you this second visit. The reason is that, your identity recognised, I
wished to weigh maturely what part to act towards you. I have hesitated much.
Most annoying circumstances have brought you into the presence of a man who has
broken all the ties of humanity. You have come to trouble my existence."
"Unintentionally!" said I.
"Unintentionally?" replied the stranger, raising his voice
a little. "Was it unintentionally that the Abraham Lincoln pursued me all over
the seas? Was it unintentionally that you took passage in this frigate? Was it
unintentionally that your cannon-balls rebounded off the plating of my vessel?
Was it unintentionally that Mr. Ned Land struck me with his harpoon?"
I detected a restrained irritation in these words. But to
these recriminations I had a very natural answer to make, and I made it.
"Sir," said I, "no doubt you are ignorant of the
discussions which have taken place concerning you in America and Europe. You do
not know that divers accidents, caused by collisions with your submarine
machine, have excited public feeling in the two continents. I omit the theories
without number by which it was sought to explain that of which you alone possess
the secret. But you must understand that, in pursuing you over the high seas of
the Pacific, the Abraham Lincoln believed itself to be chasing some
-53-
powerful sea-monster, of which it was necessary to rid the ocean at any price."
A half-smile curled the lips of the commander: then, in a
calmer tone:
"M. Aronnax," he replied, "dare you affirm that your
frigate would not as soon have pursued and cannonaded a submarine boat as a
monster?"
This question embarrassed me, for certainly Captain
Farragut might not have hesitated. He might have thought it his duty to destroy
a contrivance of this kind, as he would a gigantic narwhal.
"You understand then, sir," continued the stranger, "that
I have the right to treat you as enemies?"
I answered nothing, purposely. For what good would it be
to discuss such a proposition, when force could destroy the best arguments?
"I have hesitated some time," continued the commander;
nothing obliged me to show you hospitality. If I chose to separate myself from
you, I should have no interest in seeing you again; I could place you upon the
deck of this vessel which has served you as a refuge, I could sink beneath the
waters, and forget that you had ever existed. Would not that be my right?"
"It might be the right of a savage," I answered, "but not
that of a civilised man."
"Professor," replied the commander, quickly, "I am not
what you call a civilised man! I have done with society entirely, for reasons
which I alone have the right of appreciating. I do not, therefore, obey its
laws, and I desire you never to allude to them before me again!"
This was said plainly. A flash of anger and disdain
kindled in the eyes of the Unknown, and I had a glimpse of a terrible past in
the life of this man. Not only had he put himself beyond the pale of human laws,
but he had made himself independent of them, free in the strictest acceptation
of the word, quite beyond their reach! Who then would dare to pursue him at the
bottom of the sea, when, on its surface, he defied all attempts made against
him?
What vessel could resist the shock of his submarine
monitor?
-54-
What cuirass, however thick, could withstand the blows of his spur? No man could
demand from him an account of his actions; God, if he believed in one -- his
conscience, if he had one -- were the sole judges to whom he was answerable.
These reflections crossed my mind rapidly, whilst the
stranger personage was silent, absorbed, and as if wrapped up in himself. I
regarded him with fear mingled with interest, as, doubtless, OEdiphus regarded
the Sphinx.
After rather a long silence, the commander resumed the
conversation.
"I have hesitated," said he, "but I have thought that my
interest might be reconciled with that pity to which every human being has a
right. You will remain on board my vessel, since fate has cast you there. You
will be free; and, in exchange for this liberty, I shall only impose one single
condition. Your word of honour to submit to it will suffice."
"Speak, sir," I answered. "I suppose this condition is one
which a man of honour may accept?"
"Yes, sir; it is this: It is possible that certain events,
unforeseen, may oblige me to consign you to your cabins for some hours or some
days, as the case may be. As I desire never to use violence, I expect from you,
more than all the others, a passive obedience. In thus acting, I take all the
responsibility: I acquit you entirely, for I make it an impossibility for you to
see what ought not to be seen. Do you accept this condition?"
Then things took place on board which, to say the least,
were singular, and which ought not to be seen by people who were not placed
beyond the pale of social laws. Amongst the surprises which the future was
preparing for me, this might not be the least.
"We accept," I answered; "only I will ask your permission,
sir, to address one question to you -- one only."
"Speak, sir."
"You said that we should be free on board."
"Entirely."
"I ask you, then, what you mean by this liberty?"
"Just the liberty to go, to come, to see, to observe even
all that passes here save under rare circumstances -- the
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liberty, in short, which we enjoy ourselves, my companions and I."
It was evident that we did not understand one another.
"Pardon me, sir," I resumed, "but this liberty is only
what every prisoner has of pacing his prison. It cannot suffice us."
"It must suffice you, however."
"What! we must renounce for ever seeing our country, our
friends, our relations again?"
"Yes, sir. But to renounce that unendurable worldly yoke
which men believe to be liberty is not perhaps so painful as you think."
"Well," exclaimed Ned Land, "never will I give my word of
honour not to try to escape."
"I did not ask you for your word of honour, Master Land,"
answered the commander, coldly.
"Sir," I replied, beginning to get angry in spite of
myself, "you abuse your situation towards us; it is cruelty."
"No, sir, it is clemency. You are my prisoners of war. I
keep you, when I could, by a word, plunge you into the depths of the ocean. You
attacked me. You came to surprise a secret which no man in the world must
penetrate -- the secret of my whole existence. And you think that I am going to
send you back to that world which must know me no more? Never! In retaining you,
it is not you whom I guard -- it is myself."
These words indicated a resolution taken on the part of
the commander, against which no arguments would prevail.
"So, sir," I rejoined, "you give us simply the choice
between life and death?"
"Simply."
"My friends," said I, "to a question thus put, there is
nothing to answer. But no word of honour binds us to the master of this vessel."
"None, sir," answered the Unknown.
Then, in a gentler tone, he continued:
"Now, permit me to finish what I have to say to you. I
know you, M. Aronnax. You and your companions will not, perhaps, have so much to
complain of in the chance
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which has bound you to my fate. You will find amongst the books which are my
favourite study the work which you have published on 'the depths of the sea.' I
have often read it. You have carried out your work as far as terrestrial science
permitted you. But you do not know all -- you have not seen all. Let me tell you
then, Professor, that you will not regret the time passed on board my vessel.
You are going to visit the land of marvels."
These words of the commander had a great effect upon me. I
cannot deny it. My weak point was touched; and I forgot, for a moment, that the
contemplation of these sublime subjects was not worth the loss of liberty.
Besides, I trusted to the future to decide this grave question. So I contented
myself with saying:
"By what name ought I to address you?"