Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History Of A Dark Genius Part 29

He gave Honorine a cursory goodbye, glad to leave her behind with their fussy toddler. Verne boarded a train carrying a small valise that contained a few toiletry items and three changes of clothing, as well as a bound journal in which he could write down notes for stories. If he should not encounter the promised "adventure," at least he would get writing done.

On the appointed night, nervous and anxious, Verne took his valise, and walked along the shingled beach north from Paimboeuf. As the time grew near, he began to feel like a fool for believing what was most likely a prank -- but he had to see for himself.

A mile up the coast from Paimboeuf, just as the letter-writer had described, he found a deep, calm cove far from the nearest village. Faint white breakers stippled the dark water.

Verne waited, listening to the brisk wind and calm whisper of the ocean. He smelled the brine, the iodine tang of seaweed, the odor of dead fish. There were no campfires, no fishermens' huts, no one at all. Clouds scudded across the sky, obscuring the silvery circle of the moon. He saw no roads nearby, heard no wagons or horses.

Drawing a deep breath, Verne reached into his vest and pulled out the pocket.w.a.tch he had purchased with money Hetzel had paid him for the balloon book. He remembered how his father had always kept a telescope trained on the distant monastery clock: now Verne could tell time whenever he wished.

He snapped the lid shut. It was midnight.

He sighed, convinced that no one would appear after all. Some rival or dissatisfied reader must be back at a Paimboeuf inn right now, snickering at Verne's gullibility. His cheeks burned; maybe someone was watching him from the rocks even now.

Then a stirring caught his eye in the water out in the cove. Air bubbles rushed to the surface like a pot coming to boil. Verne whirled and faced out toward the ocean. To his astonishment, a great metal sea beast rose from the waves.

Its round portholes gleamed like the infernal eyes of a demon. Jagged fins looked like the ridge on a dragon's back. As it surfaced, Verne backed away, stumbling on the loose rock of the beach, but he could not stop staring.

The armored beast floated in silence and then, with a sc.r.a.ping sound and a heavy clang, a hatch opened on its top. The lean, shadowy figure of a man in a dark uniform rose up from the thing's gullet. He raised his right arm to wave toward the lone figure on the beach.

"Jules Verne, is that you?" the man called in an oddly familiar voice. It was deeper and rougher . . . yet it reminded him of someone he'd known as a young boy. "Come aboard and see my Nautilus Nautilus."

At a loss for words, Verne opened and closed his mouth. The terror had trickled away, leaving him numb with awe . . . and, yes, even a little curiosity. A small boat detached itself from the armored craft, and the lone man rowed toward him. "Jules, don't you recognize your old friend? It's me -- Nemo."

Verne stared at the man as he brought the boat to sh.o.r.e and stepped into the shallow water. His friend's face had changed: now in his mid-thirties, Nemo had grown leaner, his muscles tougher. A neatly trimmed beard covered his chin, and his dark eyes had a hard look, as if he had seen much more than he could ever explain.

"Nemo . . . but I -- we -- thought you were dead. Caroline and I both received a notice from the Department of the Military. It said you were killed in the Crimean War." He legs felt as if they were about to give out, and he would faint backward onto the beach.

"Not exactly killed, as you can see." His smile was grim, without a trace of humor. "You and I will have plenty of time to share the entire tale, Jules. I think you'll want to hear about my adventures." He reached out to haul Verne's valise into the metal-hulled boat. "Follow me -- you will be amazed. It's about time you came along on one of my voyages."

Taking Nemo's hand, Verne climbed into the small boat and sat unsteadily. "I . . . I've always meant to go on an adventure." As Nemo rowed back out to the armored vessel, Verne thought of the tiny rented skiff he had taken down the Loire, which had broken apart and stranded him on the isolated sandbar. "I would have gone on the Coralie Coralie with you. Honestly." with you. Honestly."

"And now you can go on my Nautilus Nautilus."

After Nemo docked against the iron-plated vessel, the two men stepped onto the wet outer hull. Verne felt wobbly on his feet. Awkward, he leaned forward and embraced his old friend, still numb with shock. Nemo patted him on the back, then laughed with genuine warmth. "Come below into the vessel. You have a grand adventure ahead of you, just like we always talked about."

They descended a metal-runged ladder into the sub-marine boat. Verne stared in wonder. A square-jawed British man with a prominent dimple stood at the bridge, calling orders to the crewmen, all of whom wore the same strange uniform. When Verne asked about it, Nemo tugged at the dark fabric on his shoulder. "We kept these outfits as a badge of honor, after we escaped from Rurapente." Seeing Verne's confusion, he said, "I hope you brought along a journal to take notes. Do you still want to be a writer?"

Verne nodded, patting his valise.

One of the crewmen sounded bells, just as on a sailing ship, but the crew had no ropes to tie, no sails to set, no anchors to cast off. The propeller of the Nautilus Nautilus began to turn with the vessel's powerful engines. One sailor climbed up to seal the upper hatch, and then the craft headed away from the coast of France. began to turn with the vessel's powerful engines. One sailor climbed up to seal the upper hatch, and then the craft headed away from the coast of France.

Verne stared out the portholes, but could see little in the ocean shadows. A cold shiver crept down his spine as the angle of the deck tilted and water covered the thick windows. His heart constricted with the realization that they were now beneath the ocean. Sweat popped out on his forehead. The Nautilus Nautilus struck out into the wide Atlantic, and Verne hung on for dear life. struck out into the wide Atlantic, and Verne hung on for dear life.

For hours he observed landscapes he had never imagined. Fishes darted to and fro, glittering in the illumination from the forward lamps. Rocks never touched by human hands made strange formations and undersea mountains.

Nemo stood beside him with a satisfied smile on his face. When Verne's astonishment had faded to a manageable level, Nemo clapped him on the shoulder. "Come into the salon. Let me tell you everything that's happened to me in the past ten years."

In the large, opulent room they sat at a narrow table and drank a strange-tasting tea. Verne continued to gaze out the broad, thick-paned portholes as his friend began the tale.

"The Crimean War was terrible, but I suspect no worse than any others. I watched pirates slaughter Captain Grant on the Coralie Coralie. I saw slavers in Africa killing innocent women and children. In the Crimea, I was with the Light Brigade when they made their foolish charge on Balaclava. And then I spent time in a hospital, surrounded by all the pain and suffering caused by foolish orders and petty squabbles between officers."

Nemo's face darkened, and he looked down at the table. Several beautiful sh.e.l.ls were strewn about, specimens taken during his underwater explorations. Verne glanced away from the porthole, noting the tremble in his friend's voice.

"And then the things Caliph Robur did to some of my men." He drew a deep breath. "It never ceases to amaze me how human beings enjoy inflicting violence upon their own species."

As he drank more tea, Nemo's voice took on a firm resolve. "Here on the Nautilus Nautilus, we are isolated from the political turmoils of the world. We can be safe. My crew is devoted to me -- they are at home on this vessel, more so than in any place in Europe."

He scowled. "Their countries sent these men to fight in the Crimea. They saw and did things their families could never accept. Due to bureaucratic error, every one of them was declared dead when Caliph Robur captured them. These men endured fear, and threats, and long imprisonment. They started new lives with new families in Turkey -- only to learn that Robur intended to execute us all when we'd done what he wanted." Nemo's fists clenched and unclenched. "And now we have escaped, and found peace here . . . until such time as we return to Rurapente to retrieve everyone and everything we left behind."

Verne had lived in Paris during the revolutionary years, had been there for the formation of the Second Republic and then the new Empire. "Peace is a hard thing to come by in this world," he said. "Even the United States of America is now embroiled in a terrible civil war. I'm glad I've managed to remain safely away from it all."

Disturbed, Nemo changed the subject by inquiring into Verne's life. He told Nemo about his law certificate and his years at the stock market, but how he had continued to write his plays and poems. With some embarra.s.sment, Verne explained about Five Weeks in a Balloon Five Weeks in a Balloon, for which he admitted borrowing heavily from his friend's exploits.

"Forgive me, my friend. I believed you were dead, and I saw no harm in it." Nemo gave him a quixotic smile, and Verne continued in a rush. "The novel has been such a success that my publisher has contracted for three books a year. I am developing a new kind of fiction. Each volume will be a strange and exotic adventure based on technology and the best advances in geographical exploration. We are calling the series 'Les Voyages Extraordinaire.'"

"I should like to read this Five Weeks in a Balloon Five Weeks in a Balloon." Nemo looked at his friend with some amus.e.m.e.nt. "Not bad for a man who has never set foot outside of France -- in fact, never traveled farther than from Nantes to Paris." He chuckled. "Until now."

Verne huffed. "I did take a journey to England and Scotland two years ago. An entire week on a boat. And I've been to Amiens, too -- several times. I think I may even like to live there someday." At the time, those trips had seemed breathtaking and exotic, but now they seemed . . . embarra.s.singly inadequate.

Nemo raised his eyebrows and said nothing for a moment, though his smile spoke volumes. "Perhaps I can give you ideas and background for more stories, Jules. I've done quite a lot in the past few years."

For the next several days, as the Nautilus Nautilus cruised the Atlantic, Nemo talked to his friend about being held captive by Caliph Robur. He described the debacle of the gigantic Moon cannon and how it had tumbled into the deep sea. Then he explained how he and his men had designed and built the sub-marine boat, which Verne could now see with his own eyes. cruised the Atlantic, Nemo talked to his friend about being held captive by Caliph Robur. He described the debacle of the gigantic Moon cannon and how it had tumbled into the deep sea. Then he explained how he and his men had designed and built the sub-marine boat, which Verne could now see with his own eyes.

Standing on the bridge of the Nautilus Nautilus, Nemo gazed ahead as their journey continued. "There are two types of men in this world, Jules: those who do do things, and those who wish they did." Hearing the words, Verne felt stung. He sensed some implied criticism, but did not challenge his friend. things, and those who wish they did." Hearing the words, Verne felt stung. He sensed some implied criticism, but did not challenge his friend.

One evening as they sat together at a dinner of poached fish and steamed mollusks, Nemo asked in a quiet voice, "Have you heard from Caroline, Jules? How is she? What is she doing these days? Even after I escaped I . . . I thought it might be better if I let her continue to believe I am dead."

Reluctant to talk about the woman they had both loved since childhood, Verne professed to have little knowledge about what had happened to her. "She's quite successful, I believe, since she moved her merchant offices to Paris. She invested well and keeps busy, probably still writes her own music that she lets few people hear."

"And . . . her husband?" Nemo said. "Captain Hatteras. Has he ever returned? Is there any word?"

Verne snorted. "No, and I doubt there ever will be. It's been sixteen years. She'll never remarry now, though she could have done so legally long ago. I think she rather likes being on her own. She's so independent."

"I . . . I am married," Nemo said, taking Verne by surprise. "Her name is Auda, a Turkish woman. Caliph Robur presented her to me and I had no choice . . . but we've come to love each other. The two of us have a son." He smiled. "I named him after you, Jules."

Verne flushed, and admitted his own situation. "I have a wife, myself," he said, unable to believe that in all the time they'd talked, all the stories they had told, the two men had neglected to mention their families. "We've had a son, too. I named him . . . uh, Michel."

Nemo wistfully scratched his dark beard. "My men and I will return to pick up Auda and my son, and their families as well. I'm afraid I have let Caroline down again." He hesitated a moment, then looked back toward the bridge and his crew. "We intend to live together aboard the Nautilus Nautilus and never come back to France. I've had enough of so-called civilized lands, and leaders with their constant struggles and murderous intents." A storm crossed Nemo's face. He picked at his food, then pushed the plate away. and never come back to France. I've had enough of so-called civilized lands, and leaders with their constant struggles and murderous intents." A storm crossed Nemo's face. He picked at his food, then pushed the plate away.

"Excuse me, Jules. I must go to the helm. I plan to take us deeper into the Atlantic -- where even I have not yet explored. Three-quarters of the Earth is covered with the oceans, you know. I could travel" -- he waved a hand, making up a number -- ". . . twenty-thousand leagues without ever touching land. And I think I just may do that."

He left Verne to finish his meal alone.

iii

The Nautilus Nautilus descended to incredible depths. No daylight penetrated the vast underwater canyons. No ray of sunshine pa.s.sed through the inky black water. descended to incredible depths. No daylight penetrated the vast underwater canyons. No ray of sunshine pa.s.sed through the inky black water.

The sub-marine's layered hull groaned from the pressure. Verne paced the bridge deck, glancing sidelong at the thick porthole gla.s.s, as if expecting to see cracks appear at any moment. Nemo seemed calm and confident, with complete faith in his vessel. From time to time the crewmen looked at their captain, then returned to their duties. Liedenbrock, the metallurgist, examined the hull plates, then placed his ear against them. He nodded to Nemo, who gave the order to go deeper still.

Strange, phosph.o.r.escent sea creatures swam about in the blackness like glowing candle processions. Tiny cold lamps sparkled from bizarre beasts that no fisherman had ever caught.

"We will compile charts of this landscape, for the sake of science," Nemo said. "But I will not provide this knowledge to the world's governments. Their leaders would find some means to turn it to a violent end."

Verne opened his mouth to disagree, then clamped his lips tight. After everything his friend had endured, a mere author had no right to argue with him. After the oppression of Rurapente, Nemo seemed to have lost some part of his heart; his old spark of enthusiasm had turned into a gray ember.

Nemo said in a distant voice, his face expressionless, "Here, embraced in the womb of the oceans, my men and I can be at . . . peace with the world."

Moments after that p.r.o.nouncement, the sea monster attacked.

Emerging from the depths, a giant squid darted in front of the Nautilus Nautilus. The hostile environment had transformed it into a leviathan of incredible proportions. The beast swam backward, pumping its tentacles, attracted by the dazzling lights of the sub-marine boat.

Liedenbrock gasped in alarm. "Ach! Such a brute."

Verne's eyes widened as he saw the enormous suckered tentacles thrashing toward them.

Nemo barked an order. "Reverse the propeller screws, Mr. Harding. We must avoid this creature."

But the Nautilus Nautilus could not move as fast as the enormous cuttlefish. Its numerous appendages surrounded the vessel like a net. The could not move as fast as the enormous cuttlefish. Its numerous appendages surrounded the vessel like a net. The Nautilus Nautilus rocked as the tentacles encircled the plated hull in an unbreakable embrace. rocked as the tentacles encircled the plated hull in an unbreakable embrace.

"Forward -- now!" With a groan, the sub-marine's powerful engines pushed them in the opposite direction. But with an abrasive straining sound, the propellers ground to a halt.

Cyrus Harding said, "Tentacles are caught in the screws, Captain. We cannot move."

The sea beast rocked them like a crocodile trying to shake its prey to pieces. The giant squid's conical head pressed against the thick portholes, displaying only a cold predatory intent. Its hideous round eyes, larger than serving plates, stared without recognition or intelligence. Verne scrambled away from the thick window with a cry of terror.

Nemo's brows furrowed with desperate concentration, and he scratched his close-cropped beard. "We must surface, Mr. Harding. We will bring this thing to the light of day. Out in the open air, perhaps it will release us."

With a clang, the squid raked its sharp, parrotlike beak against the iron-scaled bow, chewing on the metal hull.

"Brace yourselves!" Harding called. Verne grasped the bridge rail with all his strength and squeezed his eyes shut. The ballast tanks were blown, and the vessel began to rise. Nemo watched the external pressure gauges and the depth indicator. "We are rising rapidly." The creaks and groans of the hull emphasized his words.

Verne hoped that a monster from such depths could not survive at the surface, but he had read old sailors' tales, accounts of t.i.tanic battles between giant squids and sperm whales. He had never desired to see one with his own eyes.

The sub-marine continued to rise for many minutes, and the uncertain light grew brighter as they climbed toward sunlit levels. But the squid refused to relinquish its suckered hold.

As if with a sigh of relief, the Nautilus Nautilus breached the surface -- yet still the giant squid did not relinquish its hold. The writhing tentacles flexed and tightened, like a python's grip. One untangled itself and slammed the top of the hull. The battering sounds echoed like explosions within the vessel's metal walls. breached the surface -- yet still the giant squid did not relinquish its hold. The writhing tentacles flexed and tightened, like a python's grip. One untangled itself and slammed the top of the hull. The battering sounds echoed like explosions within the vessel's metal walls.

"We must put a stop to this." Nemo's jaw clenched until Verne could see his muscles move beneath his dark beard. He looked at his crew. "Take your weapons, men. We will go out and face this monster here and now."

While Verne hung back, sure he could be no help whatsoever, the Nautilus Nautilus crewmembers grimly followed their captain's orders. They secured spears, axes, and long throwing knives; four even carried curved scimitars taken from Robur's overthrown guards. crewmembers grimly followed their captain's orders. They secured spears, axes, and long throwing knives; four even carried curved scimitars taken from Robur's overthrown guards.

Telling Verne to stay clear, Nemo led the way up the metal ladder to the hatch. "Beware of the tentacles. Each one of those suckers has a central hook that can rip your guts out."

Nemo drew a deep breath -- and threw open the hatch. The men scrambled out, carrying their weapons. Outside, the Atlantic was choppy, and a low, cold mist covered the sky. The giant squid quested with its tentacles like deadly bullwhips.

Nemo jumped onto the outer deck, carrying the jagged spear with which he had killed the hammerhead shark. Cyrus Harding, his dimpled chin thrust forward in determination, set to work with a heavy ax, chopping one of the tentacles. The other crewmen yelled as they attacked -- but the deep-sea creature did not seem to hear.

Two of the squid's tentacles probed toward Harding, but a crewman sliced off the ends with a scimitar. The oozing stumps continued to flop about. Harding used his ax to sever another tentacle.

One man, a long-haired Sardinian, plunged a long throwing knife into the round expressionless eye, ducking away from a spurt of jelly. The creature stank of sour slime and half-digested fish. Slippery, oozing gel from the smooth skin covered the riveted hull plates.

The squid lifted more tentacles, releasing the Nautilus Nautilus's propeller to turn its efforts against new opponents. One of the serpentlike arms wrapped around the Sardinian who had stabbed its eye. The long-haired man screamed in pain, poking his dagger into the rubbery flesh, with no effect. The squid raised him high. The others rallied to save their comrade, but a storm of tentacles rose -- and the crewmen had to defend themselves.

The squid dragged the poor crewman toward the clacking jaws of its parrotlike beak. Inside, a h.o.r.n.y, tooth-filled tongue slashed from side to side.

His face a mask of fury, Captain Nemo strode into the midst of the tentacles and thrust his spear into the squid's mouth, jamming the jagged tip past the open beak and thrusting it deep into the soft tissues. With another scimitar, a crewman lopped off a fourth tentacle.

Terrified at the mayhem above, Verne tentatively climbed the ladder, trying to see.

One man stabbed his splintered spear into the soft conical head, but struck no nerves or brain. Verne had read somewhere that a squid had three separate hearts, and he doubted a single weapon thrust could kill the beast.

Snarling like an animal himself, Nemo pushed his spear deeper into the monster's mouth, until the squid finally let go of its captive. The long-haired Sardinian dropped to the deck, b.l.o.o.d.y and mangled. The hooks within the squid's suckers had left long lacerations in the victim's flesh. One of the other men grabbed the hapless Sardinian by the shoulders and dragged him toward the hatch. Verne tried to get out of the way, but the crewman snapped, "Take him, man! Can't you see he needs help?"

Squirming and stuttering, Verne helped carry the injured Sardinian down into the sub-marine. The long-haired man bled profusely from dozens of deep wounds, and Verne's clothes were soon soaked with scarlet. He felt ashamed that he could do nothing more to a.s.sist the man. He wasn't a doctor, and knew little about first aid -- had never even seen such terrible wounds before in his life.

Up above, the giant squid grew more agitated. The stumps of its severed tentacles thumped against the Nautilus Nautilus, while the other appendages thrashed like angry cobras. When Nemo tried to tear his spear free from the mangled mouth, the parrotlike beak snapped its shaft, leaving the captain without a weapon.

One brash crewman, a broad-shouldered Englishman, ran forward and slashed with his scimitar between the squid's eyes. The monster reached out a huge tentacle as if to swat a fly and grabbed him. Before Nemo or the other men could react, the giant squid released a burst of black dye, spraying clouds of acrid-smelling ink. The terrible fumes stung their eyes and blinded them.

Then the squid plunged back into the ocean, still grasping the hapless Englishman as if demanding some small victory in payment for its pain. . . .

Nemo and the other survivors trembled with exhaustion. Covered with slime and blood, they stared at the black murk dissipating in the waters. Though the cold Atlantic mist made the vessel's hull slippery and treacherous, at least the moisture rinsed away the oozing ichor.

Nemo shuddered as he looked around himself, grieving for the loss of the crewman. He looked as if he wanted to collapse and weep. After a long, uncertain moment, they staggered back down the ladder into the sub-marine.

On the deck below, a helpless Verne sat holding the bloodied man. He had fashioned makeshift bandages, but it was no use. Before Nemo could reach his man, the Sardinian also died.

The Nautilus Nautilus crew wrapped the victim's body in a pale shroud. During a somber ceremony, the crewmen said their farewells, each in his own language, both to the dead Sardinian and to the lost Englishman. They had all been together for years, laboring in Rurapente under the worst of circ.u.mstances. . . . crew wrapped the victim's body in a pale shroud. During a somber ceremony, the crewmen said their farewells, each in his own language, both to the dead Sardinian and to the lost Englishman. They had all been together for years, laboring in Rurapente under the worst of circ.u.mstances. . . .

Maintaining a wounded silence, the Nautilus Nautilus cruised aimlessly until Nemo found a private reef studded with waving seaweeds and beautiful sh.e.l.ls. He and several of his men suited up in underwater garments and cycled through the airlock. Verne declined to accompany them, feeling that it wasn't his place. Instead, he went to the salon and watched through the broad windows. cruised aimlessly until Nemo found a private reef studded with waving seaweeds and beautiful sh.e.l.ls. He and several of his men suited up in underwater garments and cycled through the airlock. Verne declined to accompany them, feeling that it wasn't his place. Instead, he went to the salon and watched through the broad windows.

The funeral procession plodded in slow motion through the waters, carrying their wrapped burden. Verne's heart grew heavy watching the poignant march as the Nautilus Nautilus crew -- men without a country -- laid their slain comrade to rest. crew -- men without a country -- laid their slain comrade to rest.

Moving like a machine, Nemo helped pile undersea rocks in a cairn over the body, leaving a watery grave that no other man could ever visit. They built a second mound in honor of the lost Englishman. . . .

When they returned to the vessel, Cyrus Harding piloted the Nautilus Nautilus, while Nemo isolated himself in his private cabin to mourn. He didn't emerge for an entire day. Finally he came out to speak with Verne.