Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History Of A Dark Genius Part 32

Part X

AROUND THE WORLD.

i

Nautilus, 1870 1870.

For two years, Captain Nemo's armored sub-marine boat was the nightmare of the seas.

While standing like a grim statue at the helm of his Nautilus Nautilus, he wrecked dozens of heavily armed war vessels, and the navies of the world sent out hunting craft in search of the "sea monster." Though a few of these ships blundered across Nemo's path and opened fire with their cannons, the Nautilus Nautilus never faced any real danger. never faced any real danger.

He continued without remorse and without any sign of stopping -- but after two years Nemo began to question whether his crusade was of any use. His anger had become a habit, his revenge a routine -- and he felt that his heart and soul had died. Even Auda and young Jules became mere haunted shadows in his past. He was afraid to think of Caroline, how he could return to her at any moment and ask for her forgiveness and her love. He dared not.

To the dedicated crew, this had never been a game, but a deadly statement that the political leaders of the world must hear. Sending that message had become their job, repeated often. With the blood of countless hundreds on his hands, with the tortured screams of drowning seamen unheard in the depths of the oceans, Nemo's shoulders grew heavy. His conscience trembled on the brink of despair. What had it all been for?

He convinced himself that the victims he'd killed had all been willing partic.i.p.ants in war, and thus guilty. But . . . had he he not himself been a soldier in the Crimea? In fact, every crewman aboard the not himself been a soldier in the Crimea? In fact, every crewman aboard the Nautilus Nautilus had been recruited from that terrible war. And had had been recruited from that terrible war. And had he he not charged into battle because of confused orders or misguided loyalties, like some of these men? not charged into battle because of confused orders or misguided loyalties, like some of these men?

Did Nemo have the right to mete out his personal justice on such people as he and his men had also been? Had he become just as bad as the butchers of Rurapente, preying upon innocents who knew no better?

What would Caroline say about what he'd done? And hadn't he and Caroline been pa.s.sengers aboard a British navy ship to and from their African balloon journey?

He took his vessel through the calm waters of the Red Sea to the southern end of the Suez Isthmus where the great ca.n.a.l had at long last been finished. Though well behind schedule, the French engineer de Lesseps had accomplished his tremendous feat. The narrow thread of land that separated the Mediterranean from the Indian subcontinent had been severed. Sailing vessels no longer needed to make the long trek around the bottom of Africa's Cape of Good Hope and back up again.

At the mouth of the ca.n.a.l, the Nautilus Nautilus lurked underwater. The crew watched the first triumphant French ships cruise through the waterway, firing celebratory cannons and waving colorful banners. lurked underwater. The crew watched the first triumphant French ships cruise through the waterway, firing celebratory cannons and waving colorful banners.

In his dream to become master of the world, Caliph Robur had intended to use the Nautilus Nautilus to sink those ships, to trap them in the bottleneck of the Suez Ca.n.a.l. Now Nemo simply watched the procession from inside his technological dream. . . . to sink those ships, to trap them in the bottleneck of the Suez Ca.n.a.l. Now Nemo simply watched the procession from inside his technological dream. . . .

That night, Nemo took his sub-marine boat northward through the shallow channel out of the Red Sea, reentered the Mediterranean, then headed west toward the Straits of Gibraltar.

In the following weeks, Cyrus Harding took over the less pleasant ch.o.r.es whenever they encountered prospective victims, vulnerable warships. Nemo found himself spending more and more time in the great salon, admiring the wonders of the oceans, the cradle of life on Earth.

He rested, reading his treasured books, even some of Jules Verne's amusing "Extraordinary Voyages," obtained through secretive forays into dockside cities where they could purchase newspapers and learn what was going on in the world.

He had read Five Weeks in a Balloon Five Weeks in a Balloon, and though the adventure was certainly entertaining, Jules Verne's inexperience had shown, depicting many of the African people in a distorted and highly unflattering manner, painting sinister pictures of Arabs and calling them all slavers, though Nemo had found many groups and tribes engaging in the heinous practice. It was a matter of evil men, not a matter of their race. But Verne's civilized readers knew no better, and accepted the broad-strokes account as well-researched fact.

Nemo felt empty and dejected, aimless and lost, but could not articulate exactly why. How much would have been different if he'd just stayed with Caroline, so long ago? Or if he'd gone back to her, like a sensible man?

He was 42 years old now and had seen many things and many places in his life. For amus.e.m.e.nt, he'd even taken the Nautilus Nautilus up to the coast of Norway and seen the fabled maelstrom from Verne's story, in which the fictional up to the coast of Norway and seen the fabled maelstrom from Verne's story, in which the fictional Nautilus Nautilus had sunk. The real sub-marine vessel swam through the whirlpool with ease, though, looking down on a graveyard of less-fortunate ships. . . . had sunk. The real sub-marine vessel swam through the whirlpool with ease, though, looking down on a graveyard of less-fortunate ships. . . .

As Nemo relaxed in the salon, looking into the depths of the Atlantic, Cyrus Harding came to him. "Captain, sir, we've encountered another warship. A vessel from the United States. She carries forty cannon and rides low in the water. Full of armaments, I believe."

Searching for the pa.s.sion that had driven him to such a crusade in the first place, Nemo left his books and his moment of peace, and walked to the porthole, yet said nothing. Harding, a man of calm demeanor and intent, waited for his captain's response. "Should we attack, Captain? She fits the criteria we've established."

Nemo detected no eagerness in Harding's voice. The British second-in-command was never eager for the kill, but he did know his duty. "At your discretion, Mr. Harding," Nemo said, taking the other man aback.

Finally, Harding gave a brief nod. "She does meet the criteria, Captain. I recommend we engage."

"Very well." Nemo ran a hand along his dark, trimmed beard. "I will meet you on the bridge momentarily."

He should have returned to Paris, asked Caroline to accept him again, even with the dark blots on his past. At any time he could go back to her, if he could gather the courage. What would he say to her? Why had he taken so long?

The sub-marine boat crested the calm surface while Harding and two crewmen emerged from the hatch. It was late afternoon; the sun would set within an hour. They used spygla.s.ses to a.s.sess the American warship.

As soon as the armored vessel was visible, the United States ship began blasting with its cannon. Orange tongues of flame shrank in the distance to the size of firecrackers. After several seconds' delay, the booms of gunpowder reached their ears across the still sea. A scattered pattern of cannonb.a.l.l.s splashed in the water. None of the projectiles came close to the Nautilus Nautilus, but Harding and the other crew members went below.

Nemo was standing at the helm controls. "She's begun firing at us, Captain," Harding said.

Nemo nodded, waited for them to secure the upper hatch, then gave the order to submerge. "Mr. Harding, this is your hunt." He stepped aside to let his second-in-command take the controls, but the captain of the Nautilus Nautilus displayed a greater degree of uncertainty than ever before. He felt no pa.s.sion, only numbness, a blind momentum that led them nowhere. displayed a greater degree of uncertainty than ever before. He felt no pa.s.sion, only numbness, a blind momentum that led them nowhere.

"Power up engines," Harding called.

The grim men had been through the routine numerous times before and responded with military efficiency. The growl of the electric engines built to a loud roar, and the Nautilus Nautilus leaped forward, cutting a wake across the surface. Its brilliant spotlights shone like the eyes of a dragon in the sea, as foretold in the book of Revelation. leaped forward, cutting a wake across the surface. Its brilliant spotlights shone like the eyes of a dragon in the sea, as foretold in the book of Revelation.

Distant vibrations followed them as the American ship continued its cannonade. The Nautilus Nautilus picked up speed -- a bullet streaking toward its doomed target. picked up speed -- a bullet streaking toward its doomed target.

Nemo gripped the railing, breathing heavily and trying to focus his thoughts. His obsession, his war against War, had given him a purpose during the bleakest time in his life. But the men aboard the naval vessels he destroyed also had wives and families. Perhaps some of those sailors had been conscripted against their wills. By what right did he rob them all of their futures?

He squeezed his eyes shut.

I could have been with Caroline all this time.

The sawblade spine of the Nautilus Nautilus struck the hull of the American battleship. The impact ripped the vessel's keel open, breaching the lower decks. Within moments, the wooden-hulled ship exploded, spewing debris into the unexplored waters of the Atlantic. struck the hull of the American battleship. The impact ripped the vessel's keel open, breaching the lower decks. Within moments, the wooden-hulled ship exploded, spewing debris into the unexplored waters of the Atlantic.

Nemo didn't even know the name of the ship. Nor did he care. . .

Within an hour, the American war vessel had fallen over on its side and began to go down, dragging victims to the bottom. Nemo remembered the wrecked Cynthia Cynthia at the docks in Nantes, his father trapped in a sealed stateroom as the boat sank. He thought of Auda and the boy Jules, trying to flee Rurapente, drowning after their ship was attacked. . . . at the docks in Nantes, his father trapped in a sealed stateroom as the boat sank. He thought of Auda and the boy Jules, trying to flee Rurapente, drowning after their ship was attacked. . . .

But somehow the fury was gone now. He saw only more misery caused by others, caused by him him. He had not helped at all, merely made the situation worse.

After dark, Nemo ordered the Nautilus Nautilus to surface. With engines humming at low speed, the vessel crept toward the floating debris. A few fires glowed in the ocean's night, and he wondered if the sharks would come. He stood in silence outside the hatch, inhaling the tang of smoke, gunpowder . . . and death in the fresh sea air. to surface. With engines humming at low speed, the vessel crept toward the floating debris. A few fires glowed in the ocean's night, and he wondered if the sharks would come. He stood in silence outside the hatch, inhaling the tang of smoke, gunpowder . . . and death in the fresh sea air.

He felt no exhilaration at what he had done, no triumph at striking another blow against the warmongers. Evil men would always find evil things to do, and innocent men would always become cannon fodder. By destroying so many warships, he had only added to the number of victims sent to their deaths by incompetent commanders or politicians.

Nemo wondered if he should isolate himself, take the Nautilus Nautilus and go somewhere away from the world. Surely, he deserved a respite from his dark quest by now? What more must he do? and go somewhere away from the world. Surely, he deserved a respite from his dark quest by now? What more must he do?

And then there was Caroline.

As his eyes adjusted to the distant firelight and the pale moon, Nemo saw a lone human figure clinging to the wreckage. The man waved a long, angular arm, trying to draw attention to himself. Nemo froze, considering options before finally calling down to the bridge deck and ordering Cyrus Harding to pick up the castaway.

In all their attacks, never before had Nemo chosen to take prisoners or pick up survivors. But now, with his heart heavy, the silhouette of the single refugee made him think of how he himself had clung to flotsam after pirates had captured the Coralie Coralie. This man would die out here if the Nautilus Nautilus didn't pick him up . . . and somehow turning his back on that one soul seemed even more cold-blooded than destroying the ship itself. didn't pick him up . . . and somehow turning his back on that one soul seemed even more cold-blooded than destroying the ship itself.

When the Nautilus Nautilus drew up to the wreckage, Nemo remained outside, looking down at the bedraggled survivor. He and two crewmen reached over to help the spluttering man onto the metal-plated hull. drew up to the wreckage, Nemo remained outside, looking down at the bedraggled survivor. He and two crewmen reached over to help the spluttering man onto the metal-plated hull.

The stranger had dark hair, a trim mustache, and gangly legs that seemed even more awkward in his wet, though dapper, clothes. His face was gaunt, his eyes close-set. The survivor's expression and his huffy demeanor puzzled Nemo. He expected the refugee to express either terror or outrage -- or even pathetic appreciation for being rescued. Instead, the man stamped his feet on the hull plates of the Nautilus Nautilus to shake the water from his drenched clothes. to shake the water from his drenched clothes.

With long-fingered hands he wrung out cupfuls of water, and then neatly arranged his hair. He met Nemo's gaze with a stern look and didn't seem the least bit curious about the Nautilus Nautilus or its wonders. He looked more ruffled and indignant than frightened. or its wonders. He looked more ruffled and indignant than frightened.

"My name is Phileas Fogg, sir." He sniffed with great displeasure, then looked over his shoulder at the remains of the sunken warship. "You and this abomination of a vessel have just cost me a very large wager."

ii

Though s.p.a.ce was at a premium in the sub-marine, the ornate salon was large enough for Nemo and the odd-tempered refugee to stretch their limbs and make themselves comfortable. Fogg looked as if he had settled into a dark and smoky gentleman's club, perfectly at home.

As the Nautilus Nautilus departed from the wreckage of the American warship (a vessel ironically named the departed from the wreckage of the American warship (a vessel ironically named the Invincible Invincible), Nemo saw to it that his lanky pa.s.senger recovered, was well-fed, and received new clothes. This done, he found himself in a dilemma as to what to do with Mr. Phileas Fogg. Nemo did not want to keep this tall and fastidious man a prisoner aboard his underwater craft forever.

He intended to keep the Nautilus Nautilus a secret, mainly to make sure that no other warlord like Robur decided to build such a vessel for his own ambitions. Though the sub-marine had been observed numerous times, most people still considered it a sea monster. Even after his friend's novelistic account in a secret, mainly to make sure that no other warlord like Robur decided to build such a vessel for his own ambitions. Though the sub-marine had been observed numerous times, most people still considered it a sea monster. Even after his friend's novelistic account in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, no one suspected that Verne's "extraordinary voyages" had any basis in reality.

Fogg accepted his situation with grace and lounged in one of the chairs in the salon. He folded his long right leg over his left and sat at an angle, ignoring the undersea wonders that pa.s.sed by the salon's circular viewing window. He seemed entirely uninterested in the armored underwater vessel.

Anxious to learn more about his new guest, Nemo stayed close to the man. Fogg asked no questions concerning the Nautilus Nautilus, paid little heed to the engineering innovations designed into the craft. When the prim man finally asked a question, he looked Nemo in the eye and said, "My good man, might you happen to have a cigar? My own were irreparably soaked, and after all these inconveniences, I have a powerful craving for tobacco."

Taken aback, Nemo went to a cupboard in the salon, opened a sealed case, and removed a box of brownish cylindrical objects -- a new delicacy invented by Cyrus Harding. "Try these. I believe you'll be satisfied."

Phileas Fogg lit one of the unusual cigars and sat back, puffing and concentrating as he tasted the smoke. "Most unusual." His brows furrowed as if his brain were working over the convolutions of an extraordinary mathematical problem. "Is it your own label?"

Nemo wondered if he could surprise the unflappable man. "They're made of a dried seaweed that is high in the substance nicotine. We prefer not to put ash.o.r.e and buy land-based supplies except when absolutely necessary. Thus, you have our subst.i.tute."

"Seaweed, my good fellow? Most ingenious, I'd say," Fogg said, showing not the slightest desire to the matter any further. "Well, we do what we must for good tobacco."

Nemo sat forward in his chair. "Tell me about this mysterious wager of yours, Monsieur Fogg. What have we cost you?"

"You and your infernal machine have caused me to lose a very ambitious race, sir." Fogg pointed with his seaweed cigar, deftly tapping ash into a receptacle beside his chair. "At one time I belonged to a rather prestigious, formal, and -- yes, let us admit it -- stuffy stuffy gentleman's club in London. A group of bored, wealthy men, who sat and read the newspapers, had afternoon tea, played whist, and . . . and did little else. Pompous a.s.ses, if you ask me -- and I fit right in with them. gentleman's club in London. A group of bored, wealthy men, who sat and read the newspapers, had afternoon tea, played whist, and . . . and did little else. Pompous a.s.ses, if you ask me -- and I fit right in with them.

"One day, after pondering the world-wide commercial implications of the new Suez Ca.n.a.l, I calculated that it would be possible for a man with sufficient resources and careful attention to scheduling to travel around the world in eighty days." Fogg smiled, as if expecting Nemo to disbelieve him, but the captain of the Nautilus Nautilus maintained an expression of polite interest. maintained an expression of polite interest.

"My colleagues in the club treated such a suggestion as preposterous. So, with my honor at stake, I made them a wager -- a very large wager -- that I myself could actually perform such a feat. I would attempt the impossible. We do what we must in the name of honor, do we not?"

Nemo brooded. "You might say that."

Fogg took a long drag from his cigar, as if he were attempting to siphon thick oil from a container. "Well, naturally, I had the schedules and timetables before me and the utmost confidence in my own abilities. I departed that very evening, and I have made nearly a complete circuit of the globe. That is, until you sank the ship on which I was traveling. Most inconvenient."

He drew on the seaweed cigar again and savored the smoke. Nemo lit a cigar of his own, though he usually did not indulge. He motioned with the glowing tip for the man to continue.

"I began by crossing the English Channel and took a railway to the south of France, where I caught a ship that carried me across the Mediterranean, through the Suez Ca.n.a.l, and into the Red Sea. From there, we sailed to India, which subcontinent I crossed using a train and an elephant. No time for tedious sightseeing -- just rapid motion westward. From Singapore I traveled to Hong Kong, then j.a.pan, across the Pacific to San Francisco, and finally by rail across North America.

"Alas, due to an unforeseen scheduling mishap in New York Harbor, I was forced to book pa.s.sage upon the only vessel that could take me to England in time -- a warship with orders to cruise the oceans in search of the notorious sea monster in all the papers." Fogg raised his eyebrows and turned his gaunt face to study Nemo. "I presume that monster is your own ship? Rotten luck."

Nemo nodded. Fogg pursed his lips in acceptance.

"I had to use the last of my monetary resources to bribe the navy captain. If the Invincible Invincible had indeed kept to schedule, I would have been a very wealthy man . . . and, more importantly, I would have been proved correct in my convictions." Fogg stubbed out his cigar, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Now, however, I am ruined. I believe h.e.l.l must be a place where no schedules are ever kept." had indeed kept to schedule, I would have been a very wealthy man . . . and, more importantly, I would have been proved correct in my convictions." Fogg stubbed out his cigar, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Now, however, I am ruined. I believe h.e.l.l must be a place where no schedules are ever kept."

With growing disappointment in himself, Nemo listened to the fastidious Englishman's account. Phileas Fogg had survived the Nautilus Nautilus's attack on the American naval vessel, but all others aboard had died. How many civilians had drowned, mere innocents who'd had the misfortune of booking pa.s.sage aboard a ship marked for war, as Phileas Fogg had? As he and Caroline had done, with Dr. Fergusson, in order to return from Africa? How many people had been attempting to go from one place to another, and never had violence or bloodshed in their hearts?

Nemo had killed them all. That, he was forced to acknowledge, made him as bad as Caliph Robur.

Outside the circular salon window swam a great white shark, its soulless eyes peering into the illuminated interior of the sub-marine boat. If Phileas Fogg noticed the predatory fish, he gave no sign.

"Monsieur Fogg," Nemo said, arriving at a decision, "my Nautilus Nautilus can travel faster than even a warship such as the can travel faster than even a warship such as the Invincible Invincible. By journeying beneath the waves, we are not at the mercy of winds or weather. We can increase the power of our engines and cross the Atlantic within days." He stood. "I know I have inconvenienced you terribly, sir . . . and I have committed a great many other crimes, for which I must atone in my own way." He held out his hand. "I can offer rest.i.tution in your case, however, provided you grant me a.s.surance that you keep the existence of my sub-marine boat a secret and not reveal how you returned to England." He squared his shoulders. "If you agree to these things, I will provide you pa.s.sage to London in time to win your wager."

Fogg's narrow face brightened for just a moment, then he nodded at Captain Nemo. "You leave me no choice, sir. I agree to your terms. Anything, in order to get back on schedule."

iii

In misty weather and calm seas, the Nautilus Nautilus cruised along the surface of the Atlantic. As the vessel cut a bright wake across the waves, Nemo stood outside, taking in the fresh air and cool dampness. He listened to the quiet ripples of the armored boat's pa.s.sage and stared into the distance . . . just thinking. cruised along the surface of the Atlantic. As the vessel cut a bright wake across the waves, Nemo stood outside, taking in the fresh air and cool dampness. He listened to the quiet ripples of the armored boat's pa.s.sage and stared into the distance . . . just thinking.

Entering the English Channel, they pa.s.sed the northern coast of France. Being so close to continental Europe and his homeland reminded Nemo of his days in Nantes and Paris. Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Caroline, how very close they had grown, and how he had given it all up.

If only he'd returned to her immediately after discovering the destruction of Rurapente. He had been consumed with anger and vengeance, cruising the seas on his quest to stop war, like Sisyphus rolling his stone endlessly uphill. What had it gained him, when he could have returned to a beautiful woman instead? He had been scarred and changed after the Crimean War, and he had turned his back on happiness, forsaking love for revenge.

For a man who'd been brave enough to fight the greatest battles and confront the deadliest adversaries, why was he afraid to face Caroline and ask her to accept him as he was?

Even before the war, if only he'd had the courage to remain in Paris for a year -- a mere twelve months -- he and Caroline could have been married long ago. A smile of bitter irony twisted his lips. He had truly believed that waiting for one year in Paris until he could hold her again would have been unbearable torture. Instead, he'd gone to the Crimea, been captured by an evil caliph, and been forced to work for ten years. Oh, if only he had stayed in France!

But if he had remained, Nemo would never have known Auda, or played with his son Jules. Despite the tragedy, Nemo would not have been willing to surrender those memories for any sum. . . .

Phileas Fogg joined him outside in the fog. In silence, they watched the approaching white cliffs of Dover, ready to round the point to the Thames estuary. The lanky Englishman had spent most of the journey in his enclosed cabin, attending to his journal, displaying no interest in the Nautilus Nautilus. Nemo was glad to have his privacy, yet could not understand this man's apathy toward new things. Fogg had traveled around the world, but had shown little curiosity about the wonders of the Earth even as he'd pa.s.sed through them.

Now, though, Phileas Fogg wore a pained expression and looked at the captain, as if he had distractedly eaten too many prunes at breakfast. He brushed down an offending loose whisker in his narrow mustache. Something troubled the traveler, but Nemo waited for the gangly man to speak. Finally, Fogg cleared his throat. "Captain Nemo, I am concerned as to how I may cope with your demands."

"Have I been unreasonable in any way?" Nemo raised his dark eyebrows.

Fogg reached into his salvaged coat and withdrew a bound volume wrapped in oilskin, with the words Fogg's Log Fogg's Log embossed on the cover. "This is the precise and detailed record of my journey. I keep it with me at all times -- otherwise it would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean, along with the wreckage of the embossed on the cover. "This is the precise and detailed record of my journey. I keep it with me at all times -- otherwise it would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean, along with the wreckage of the Invincible Invincible. I would have had a terrible time retrieving it."

He opened the battered book and showed Nemo the colorful stamps from customs officers, inscriptions by local officials, postmarks and clippings from newspapers. "This is how I intend to prove that I did indeed complete my journey, that I traveled around the world in eighty days."