Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History Of A Dark Genius Part 6

iv

The Straits of Malacca, a narrow trench between Malaysia on the north and Sumatra on the south, were known to be haunted by seafaring bandits. As the Coralie Coralie navigated the narrows, Captain Grant maintained full crews at the cannon, powder magazines, and crow's nests. navigated the narrows, Captain Grant maintained full crews at the cannon, powder magazines, and crow's nests.

"We stop at Borneo, perhaps Java, then continue to the Philippines before we strike across the Pacific to the Sandwich Islands." Grant indicated the specific islands on the large nautical chart mounted under gla.s.s in the navigation room. "I warrant we'll see San Francis...o...b..fore Christmas next."

Days after the three-masted brig emerged into the island-cluttered waters of Indonesia, Nemo sat at the bow, cradling in his lap one of the books Verne had left for him, a worn copy of DeFoe's Robinson Crusoe Robinson Crusoe. He and his friend had sat at the edge of the Loire, imagining what they might do if ever marooned on a deserted island.

Engrossed in the story, Nemo did not hear the captain's footfalls above the groan of the rigging ropes and the whisper of tight sails. Captain Grant saw what his cabin boy was reading. "Crusoe, eh? You know the account DeFoe used for his inspiration, lad?"

Nemo looked up at the captain. "Robinson Crusoe is a true tale, sir?"

"Not exactly," Captain Grant replied with a smile. "'Twas told by the pirate William Dampier, who was also a naturalist and meticulous observer. One of his men, a Scottish sailor named Alexander Selkirk, demanded to be put ash.o.r.e after a disastrous raid against the Spaniards. Dampier left him off the coast of South America, then sailed away."

"So he was marooned?" Nemo asked.

"By his own choice, lad. Four and a half years later, when William Dampier came around Cape Horn again -- this time commissioned as the navigator on a legitimate ship, not a privateer -- the crew spotted a strange light on the coast. When they stopped to investigate, they found a bedraggled Selkirk, who had built a huge fire to attract them. The poor man had not seen another living soul for four long years."

Seeing Nemo's fascination, Captain Grant said, "I have Dampier's book in my cabin, lad. You can read it tonight by lamplight, if you wish." The captain then pointed a scolding finger. "But first, young man, 'tis your turn at watch. Go climb the ratlines and spend your hours up in the crow's nest."

v

Sitting alone atop the mast for hour after hour, Nemo imagined himself in another world. Far below, the Coralie Coralie held the smells and stains from the long voyage, despite vigorous daily scrubbings. He'd grown accustomed to the crowded and unpleasant conditions, but he preferred to be up high, where the breezes danced around the topmost spire. Here, his thoughts could roam. held the smells and stains from the long voyage, despite vigorous daily scrubbings. He'd grown accustomed to the crowded and unpleasant conditions, but he preferred to be up high, where the breezes danced around the topmost spire. Here, his thoughts could roam.

The rigging hummed, and the sails laughed with each gust. In the South China Sea, islands, reefs, and peninsulas dotted the charts in Captain Grant's stateroom. At the moment, all Nemo could see was the hazy, curved plane of metal-blue water, a calm sea with just enough wind to keep the sails filled and the ship moving on course.

Sunlight glinted across the stippled waves, fragmenting and reflecting back at him, though he no longer felt the baking heat upon his bronzed skin. Nemo stared, looking for any interruption in the quiet sea that would indicate an island, an approaching storm, or another ship. The world was so vast, so full of possibilities. No birds were visible, which meant the ship must be far from land. He took a moment to retie the faded red hair ribbon Caroline had given him, which sparked a wash of memories of Nantes. With the chance Caroline had offered, the opportunity arranged through Monsieur Aronnax, Nemo had indeed made something of himself.

In the crow's nest he had carried the thick leather-bound journal Jules had given him. Now he wrote with a lead pencil, scratching out thoughts and recollections, adding details of the previous few days. Verne, who had been forbidden to take this journey himself, would want to know everything.

Nemo glanced up again and scanned the sea, startled to see a black speck on the horizon riding the wind toward the Coralie. Coralie. He took out his spygla.s.s and placed the warm bra.s.s eyepiece against his face. Through the lens he could make out a sailing ship, though he could determine no specifics. "Ship ahoy! East by northeast."

The other sailors on the Coralie Coralie looked up at him, then out to sea. From his place at the wheel, the helmsman signaled that he had heard. Nemo glanced again at the distant craft, then returned to his writing. looked up at him, then out to sea. From his place at the wheel, the helmsman signaled that he had heard. Nemo glanced again at the distant craft, then returned to his writing.

Over the next hour or so, the other ship came closer while the Coralie Coralie tacked at an angle to the wind. The stranger -- a large, st.u.r.dy sloop -- chose a course bound to intercept them, moving with the breezes. As the distance between the two vessels closed, Nemo periodically checked with the spygla.s.s. tacked at an angle to the wind. The stranger -- a large, st.u.r.dy sloop -- chose a course bound to intercept them, moving with the breezes. As the distance between the two vessels closed, Nemo periodically checked with the spygla.s.s.

Captain Grant's sailors continued to adjust the rigging, pulling the Coralie' Coralie's sails to s.n.a.t.c.h every breath of wind. Some gathered at the rail to look at the oncoming ship. It had been some time since the crew had encountered another vessel, but this was a high traffic sailing lane; finding another sail out in the South China Sea was not unusual.

Nemo could have finished his shift, scuttled down the shroud ropes, and asked to look at the Crusoe-inspiring books Captain Grant had promised him. But with another ship coming closer, he wanted to stay up in the crows' nest where he could be the first to see.

Using the spygla.s.s, he finally made out the flag atop the foremast of the sloop. "She's British. Flying the Union Jack."

The other sailors milled about on deck, some shading their eyes and trying to see. The sloop picked up speed, coming closer. Nemo finished writing another page in the journal and stuffed the heavy book inside his shirt, tight against his chest.

Captain Grant stood on the raised quarterdeck, using his own spygla.s.s to observe the approaching ship. The sloop clearly intended to rendezvous with the Coralie Coralie. The captain went into his cabin and emerged wearing a new jacket with bright bra.s.s b.u.t.tons.

Nemo made out the details of the sloop, a black hull with a line of tan at the waterline, six gunports on a side, and a single tall mast with long booms that kept the gaff-rigged mainsail extended. Two squaresails had also been hoisted to give her greater speed to run before the wind. A well-dressed man stood at the tiller -- a British captain? -- and others strutted across the deck wearing finery. Some appeared to be ladies in colorful gowns made of oriental silk. They waved cordially.

Nemo knew a British ship wouldn't be uncommon in the South China Sea. Perhaps it was an opium trader; more likely, this sloop carried a group of amba.s.sadors or colonists out on a pleasure cruise among the islands.

Captain Grant signaled the sloop and called all hands on deck to prepare for a meeting at sea, where they could exchange news and mail. Nemo waited, breathless with antic.i.p.ation, wondering what tidings the sloop might bring from the territories in Southeast Asia.

Unexpectedly, two of the women in bright dresses went to the mast and tugged ropes to draw down the Union Jack. Nemo squinted through the spygla.s.s, trying to see what they meant to do. As the flag was lowered, two of the sailors on the Coralie Coralie's deck yelled a warning.

Another flag ran up the sloop's main mast -- a black banner sporting a crudely st.i.tched skeleton and a b.l.o.o.d.y sword.

The sloop's six gunports opened up, and the ominous snouts of cannons protruded. Nemo saw flashes of light and puffs of smoke as three cannons fired in successive, overloud drumbeats.

The pirates' first cannonball ripped through the Coralie Coralie's mainsail, leaving a smoldering hole. The second ball crashed into the hull above the waterline, blasting one side of the upper cargo hold. "They've heated the b.a.l.l.s red-hot!" a sailor shouted. The technique was devastating against wooden ships, easily starting the victim vessel on fire. Crews quickly filled buckets to extinguish any sparks.

The third cannonblast was the worst. Its load contained chains and mauls, rods of metal that spun like sawblades, tearing into the rigging, severing ropes. The sails flapped free. One of the ratlines dangled like an amputated arm. Fires began to burn on the Coralie Coralie's deck.

The men belowdecks started to scream and shout. When another cannon blast splintered the side of the mizzen mast, Nemo knew he had to get down from his vulnerable position. His heart pounded, and he thought quickly. Until now, the voyage had been marvelous and breathtaking. Now, though, he wondered about the difference between adventure and danger.

The sloop full of pirates came closer, narrowing the distance as the Coralie Coralie wallowed, unable to flee. The crew aboard shouted, preparing to fight for their lives. Nemo swallowed hard and went to join them. wallowed, unable to flee. The crew aboard shouted, preparing to fight for their lives. Nemo swallowed hard and went to join them.

Down below, Captain Grant's weapons master managed to fire two of the starboard cannons, but the rapid approach of the pirate sloop made the range difficult to determine. The cannonb.a.l.l.s sailed past their target, only one of them tearing a hole through the pirates' triangular foresail.

Nemo used his spygla.s.s again and saw the men aboard the sloop shedding their disguises of fine clothing, women's dresses worn by younger pirates to lull the unsuspecting Coralie. Coralie.

One of the raiders stood up, displaying gaudy clothes, a scarlet sash, and a striking black tricorne hat -- obviously the captain. The pirate leader's nose and ears had been sliced off, giving him a cadaverous appearance that made Nemo's heart freeze. He had heard of pirate justice, how a man caught stealing or grabbing more than his share of booty would be thus disfigured with the grotesque markings of his crime. But this noseless captain had acquired a vessel and a crew of vicious cutthroats. He raised a long cutla.s.s high in challenge.

Flushed and breathless, Nemo scrambled down from the crow's nest, grabbing severed and swinging ropes, making his way from yardarm to ratline. His mind raced, trying to think of defenses the Coralie Coralie could mount against the pirates, but surely Captain Grant already had a plan. could mount against the pirates, but surely Captain Grant already had a plan.

He needed to descend to the deck, where he could join in the imminent fighting and do his part. He had an odd memory of play-acting late at night with Jules Verne and Caroline Aronnax, when he had pretended to be the brave hero fighting against a bloodthirsty pirate king. But somehow he doubted these real raiders would flee in panic as easily as Jules Verne had done. Nemo, however, would not fight with any less vigor, even though the danger was real.

Standing on the Coralie Coralie's deck, quartermaster Ned Land removed his long rifle and loaded it. His disheveled blond hair was damp with sweat. The bl.u.s.tery Canadian had bragged about his shooting accuracy, able to pick off seagulls when they were mere flyspecks in the sky. Now, his face red with anger but his expression cool and focused, Ned lay the weapon across the railing, took aim, and fired at the approaching ship.

Nemo saw one of the pirates stumble backward and fall dead to the deck.

With a howl of rage, the marauders tossed the body overboard. They began to fire their pistols at random, striking the Coralie Coralie with a barrage of unaimed bullets. But the pirates had their own sharpshooters and a more vicious agenda. Captain Noseless barked an order, and several rifles fired from the deck of the sloop. They picked off the with a barrage of unaimed bullets. But the pirates had their own sharpshooters and a more vicious agenda. Captain Noseless barked an order, and several rifles fired from the deck of the sloop. They picked off the Coralie Coralie's helmsman and then two deckhands who were wrestling to bring the flapping sails under control.

Now the Coralie Coralie lay helpless and burning, unable to use her sails or her helm. Captain Grant shouted to rally his crew. Without waiting for the key, one of the older seamen scrambled down the deck ladders to break open the armory. The English sailors distributed swords and pistols and powder as they prepared to defend their ship. Below, the weaponsmaster recalculated his aim and fired another cannon blast. The shrieking ball struck the bow of the sloop and splintered the masthead. lay helpless and burning, unable to use her sails or her helm. Captain Grant shouted to rally his crew. Without waiting for the key, one of the older seamen scrambled down the deck ladders to break open the armory. The English sailors distributed swords and pistols and powder as they prepared to defend their ship. Below, the weaponsmaster recalculated his aim and fired another cannon blast. The shrieking ball struck the bow of the sloop and splintered the masthead.

Just as Nemo managed to land barefoot on the deck, the enemy sloop came alongside the Coralie Coralie. The marauders threw grappling hooks and boarding ladders across the gap between the ships. Nemo felt cold, numb but not fearless, and stood with his shipmates to face them, no matter what.

The pirates had painted their bodies with brilliant colors and coated their skin with thick grease to help deflect edged weapons during hand-to-hand combat. They scrambled aboard with knives in their teeth, boarding axes in their hands, and murder in their eyes. The shouts and smells were horrific: sweat, blood, gunpowder, and rancid grease.

His tattered striped shirt stained with soot, Ned Land continued to shoot his rifle. With every blast, another pirate fell, but the quartermaster had neither enough shot nor enough powder to save them all. Nemo both dreaded and antic.i.p.ated when he could take part in the fighting.

Running to help the other grim sailors who were rattling their swords and tapping their pistols, Nemo took a firearm of his own, loaded it, then thrust a second one into his belt. He looked around for a sword and settled on a long knife, though he had no training with either. He would have to learn as soon as the fighting began. And Nemo had always been a good learner.

The pirates swarmed aboard like a plague of rats. Many had bandannas around their heads; some had lost fingers, hands, or feet -- but none of those deficiencies slowed them down. Captain Grant's men engaged them with a clang of steel and a blast of shot. Struck down, bodies squirmed and twisted, screaming in pain and in defiance.

Wounded men fell overboard. Crates and barrels began to spill into the water from a hole blasted in the Coralie Coralie's cargo deck. Adding to the chaos, a few chickens, pigs, and even a cow had gotten loose from their pens and now milled about belowdecks.

Feeling small, like a dust mote in a whirlwind, Nemo stood his ground as Captain Noseless strode aboard, sweeping his long cutla.s.s from side to side like a harvester cutting grain. Coralie Coralie sailors fell with their heads lopped off or a swordpoint thrust into their bowels. sailors fell with their heads lopped off or a swordpoint thrust into their bowels.

Ned Land shot five more times, but at close quarters his rifle proved useless. He swore in French and English; the pirates were not bothered by either language.

Toward the rear of the ship, against the raised quarterdeck, Captain Grant held his own, using a sword with his right hand and firing a pistol with his left. Three dead pirates lay in front of him, their blood and entrails smearing the boards. The captain glanced over at Nemo, and the young man's heart swelled. Their eyes met for an instant, then both went back to fighting. Nemo's knees were watery with terror, his stomach knotted . . . but a crimson fringe of anger flared around the edges of his vision. He had no qualms against killing these b.e.s.t.i.a.l men. He let out a loud yell, and it felt good.

Nemo fired his first pistol and wounded one of the pirates, a shaven-headed man with crooked yellow teeth. The bald pirate snarled at him, clutching his shoulder from which dark blood streamed. He strode forward, sword in hand, until another sailor chopped the wounded pirate in the back and sliced his legs out from under him. This was no duel with rules or honor. This was a fight for survival against ruthless pirates. His head buzzing, Nemo shouted in confused triumph and chose another pirate to attack.

Fires continued to lick along the deck, the rigging, and the sails. A few Coralie Coralie men threw buckets of seawater, trying to douse the flames around the sword play. The pirates shot those men dead, and their dropped buckets of water mixed with the blood on the deck. men threw buckets of seawater, trying to douse the flames around the sword play. The pirates shot those men dead, and their dropped buckets of water mixed with the blood on the deck.

The disfigured pirate leader strolled through the melee and headed relentlessly toward Captain Grant.

Seeing the threat to his mentor, Nemo dodged sword thrusts, jabbed with his long knife, and tried to make his way to the quarterdeck. He had to defend Captain Grant. Reckless but outraged to see what the pirates were doing to his ship, his mates, Nemo charged forward, yelling -- and suddenly found himself face-to-face with Captain Noseless. His bare feet skidded to a halt on the deck, but he meant to hurt this man.

Nemo had little chance, a young man on his first voyage against a brutal cutthroat who had no doubt slain hundreds of men. But he could not let the villain coolly march forward and murder Captain Grant. His lips curled back from his teeth in defiance.

Nemo yanked the other pistol out of his belt and pointed it at the hideously scarred pirate. Captain Noseless grinned at him, and his face looked even more like a skull. Nemo pointed the pistol at the pirate's chest and pulled the trigger, feeling no remorse. "Die!"

The hammer clicked against the flint. Nemo's stomach turned to ice as he recognized his mistake: When he had grabbed the two pistols, he had not loaded the second one. The pirate knew it.

With a brutal thrust, a sneering laugh on his face, Captain Noseless jabbed his cutla.s.s hard into the young man's chest. Nemo felt the point of the sword slam just below his sternum. The noseless pirate thrust, hard.

The force of the blow drove Nemo backward -- and the next thing he knew, he lay senseless on his back, reeling, unable to breathe, trying to scream, unable to believe what had just happened to him . . . expecting to die.

But he wasn't dead. Despite the pirate's murderous intent, the cutla.s.s had bit into the leather-bound journal that Jules Verne had given him. Nemo had stuffed it into his shirt before climbing down from the crow's nest. The steel point had poked through half of the pages and hammered him backward, but the book had saved his life.

Another pirate, one whose face was horribly burned, strode toward Nemo. A ma.s.sive flame-red beard protruded like a shovel from his chin. Astonished to see the young man still alive after the sword thrust, Redbeard intended to finish the job.

Nemo backed away, crouching and looking dangerous. He couldn't catch his breath, or focus his thoughts. The deafening sounds of battle faded to a mere background hum as he concentrated on staying alive. Nemo took out his long knife to defend himself against the bearded pirate.

When he stepped on a fallen sword with a clatter, he bent to pick it up. His own two pistols were spent, so he threw them like metal cudgels at the pirate's face. But Redbeard ducked from one side to the other, grinning. Nemo breathed hard, inhaling fire with each breath, hating the pirates, hating their thirst for mayhem and slaughter. He wanted to kill them all.

Near the bow, Ned Land fired a final shot from his rifle, blowing a pirate completely off the deck. Then the burly quartermaster grabbed the long barrel and flailed the rifle like a steel club. The oak stock splintered as he brought it down on the face of a charging pirate, smashing the man's nose. A spray of blood, mucous, and teeth spewed from the pirate's broken head.

Ned Land thrashed the rifle from side to side, biceps bulging, until the splintered wooden stock broke off . . . and a swarm of angry pirates converged on him. With dismay, Nemo saw the Canadian quartermaster go down under a flurry of long knives and sword thrusts.

Concentrating on his bearded attacker, Nemo backed against the deck rail with nowhere to go but the debris-filled ocean. Intent on venting his anger against this one opponent, dismayed at what had just happened to Ned Land, he thrust his sword toward Redbeard, but the pirate clashed his own sword against it. The jarring impact numbed the young man's arm all the way up to the elbow, and the sword clattered from his throbbing grip. Nemo had only the long dagger in the other hand.

Redbeard raised his sword for the killing blow. Nemo glared at him, ready to jump and fight with his teeth and fingernails, if necessary. He wouldn't give up, certainly not now.

Then a singularly loud pistol shot cracked over the din. Crimson splashed from a new hole beneath the bearded pirate's breast. The marauder grunted and stopped, holding his sword high, still preparing for the thrust.

Nemo looked wildly to one side and saw that Captain Grant had fired his last shot. The captain, his mentor, had aimed and hit the murderous pirate to save the life of his cabin boy.

Before Nemo could react, the noseless pirate leader strode up to Captain Grant and brought the pommel of his dripping cutla.s.s down on the captain's head, driving him to the deck. A gasp of shame and despair rose like a banshee's cry from the survivors of the Coralie Coralie.

"No!" Nemo cried.

Mortally wounded, Redbeard took one more staggering step forward, as if in death he meant to embrace the young man. He collapsed like an avalanche on top of Nemo, knocking him into the rail, which shattered. Both of them tumbled backward into the waves. . . .

In the water, Nemo struggled to take refuge in the scattered wreckage. A fan of red murk oozed from Redbeard's body, and Nemo kicked his way free, pummeling the pirate's lifeless body. Already the marauder sloop and the damaged Coralie Coralie were drifting away. Out in the open sea, a dazed Nemo had to tread water before trying to swim back toward the ships. were drifting away. Out in the open sea, a dazed Nemo had to tread water before trying to swim back toward the ships.

All the remaining pirates had swarmed from the sloop over to the Coralie Coralie. With the battle won, some went about extinguishing fires and minimizing further damage to the brig.

Nemo looked up from the water. At the tall quarterdeck, he watched the disfigured pirate leader haul Captain Grant to his feet. Noseless marched the stunned man to the tallest point, where everyone could see. By now, many of the Coralie Coralie survivors were surrendering to whatever fate awaited them. survivors were surrendering to whatever fate awaited them.

Nemo's ears were ringing, and he couldn't make out the exact words that Noseless spoke -- but he knew the speech was about Captain Grant, who stood reeling and barely conscious, still struggling to maintain his dignity. But he felt helpless, needing to do something. He swam harder, stroking toward the ships that continued to drift farther and farther from him.

Then the pirate leader pointed a pistol at Captain Grant's chest and fired. The blast knocked the captain to the deck. Nemo gave a wordless shout that went unheard in the remaining din of the takeover. He choked on water that splashed into his gasping mouth. He swam harder, tears stinging his eyes with the salt.w.a.ter from the sea.

Without ceremony, a pair of pirates picked up the captain's body, swung him twice, then heaved him overboard. Captain Grant, Nemo's friend and teacher who had shown him the ways of the sea and the ways of science, fell dead into the water, among the other floating debris.

The pirates had taken complete control of the Coralie Coralie now, retying sails, regaining the brig's maneuverability. Because it was far more powerful and more impressive than their sloop, they would no doubt repair the three-masted ship and make it one of their own vessels. now, retying sails, regaining the brig's maneuverability. Because it was far more powerful and more impressive than their sloop, they would no doubt repair the three-masted ship and make it one of their own vessels.

As the ships sailed away from him, Nemo knew he could never catch up, no matter how fast he swam. Devastated now, still reeling from the horror he had seen but now yet acknowledging the even worse straits in which he now found himself, Nemo clung to the wreckage that had spilled from the Coralie Coralie's cargo hold.

He screamed after the pirates, but they either did not hear him, or ignored his pitiful shouts. But Captain Grant had taught him to be resourceful. Nemo looked around at the splintered wood, the broken spars, and the few casks and crates of supplies. Perhaps he could construct some sort of a temporary raft. But he had to act quickly, for every moment the flotsam dispersed more and more. He could not lose vital resources now. Every sc.r.a.p might make the difference between his survival or his death.

All around, the water was stained purplish from spilled blood. Corpses floated facedown like tiny islands, their gaping wounds washed clean by sea water. Somewhere in the distance, the body of Captain Grant lay among them.

The two ships dwindled to tiny specks, farther and farther away, until there was nothing else but the sea. Nemo was adrift and alone, lost and helpless.

Soon, the sharks would come.

vi

Even before the still-smoking Coralie Coralie and the pirates' sloop disappeared into the distance, Nemo realized how alone he was out in the South China Sea. To stand even the slimmest chance of surviving, he would have to rely on his own wits and everything he had learned. He thought of Captain Grant -- and then Jules Verne, and Caroline Aronnax, and he strove for some way to keep himself alive. and the pirates' sloop disappeared into the distance, Nemo realized how alone he was out in the South China Sea. To stand even the slimmest chance of surviving, he would have to rely on his own wits and everything he had learned. He thought of Captain Grant -- and then Jules Verne, and Caroline Aronnax, and he strove for some way to keep himself alive.

Alert for the circling razor fins of sharks, Nemo paddled toward the nearest crate. If he could a.s.semble the drifting junk, he might find enough worthwhile components. Kicking hard with sore and exhausted legs, he pushed it closer to one of the others. Then, with the tangled end of a burned rigging line, he lashed them together into a crude raft. Next, breathless but refusing to think about his exhaustion or fear, he swam over to fetch a barrel bobbing in the waves. Hoping it would contain water or beer, he was dismayed to find that the keg held only damp black powder.

He did find a dead chicken, drowned inside its cage, already planning for when he would need food. Not knowing how long he might remain adrift, or what items he might require, he grabbed a waterlogged sc.r.a.p of canvas from a torn sail, a long piece of wooden rail with a splintered end, a tangled ma.s.s of rigging rope, and someone's bloodstained shirt. He still had the waterlogged journal that had saved his life from the pirate captain's sword thrust, and he even kept the battered cage from the drowned chicken. Anything might prove invaluable.