Двадцать тысяч лье под водой / Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

At noon the next day, November 5, the delay expired. By then the frigate lay in latitude 31 degrees 15’ north and longitude 136 degrees 42’ east. The shores of Japan were less than 200 miles to our leeward. Night was coming on. Eight o’clock had just struck. Huge clouds covered the moon’s disk.

Just then I was leaning over the starboard rail. Conseil stared straight ahead. Observing Conseil, I discovered that, just barely, the gallant lad had fallen under the general influence. At least so I thought. Perhaps his nerves were twitching with curiosity for the first time in history.

“Come on, Conseil!” I told him. “Here’s your last chance to get $2,000!”

“If master will permit my saying so,” Conseil replied, “I never expected to win that prize, and the Union government could have promised $100,000 and been none the poorer.”

“You’re right, Conseil, it turned out to be a foolish business after all, and we jumped into it too hastily. What a waste of time! Six months ago we could have been back in France—”

“In master’s little apartment,” Conseil answered. “In master’s museum! And by now I would have classified master’s fossils.”

“Quite so, Conseil, and what’s more, I imagine that people will soon be laughing at us!”

Conseil didn’t have time to answer. A voice became audible. It was Ned Land’s voice, and it shouted:

“Ahoy! There’s the thing, abreast of us to leeward!”

Chapter 6

At this shout the entire crew rushed toward the harpooner—commander, officers, mates, sailors, cabin boys, down to engineers leaving their machinery and stokers neglecting their furnaces. The order was given to stop.

Ned Land was not mistaken, and we all saw the object his hand was indicating. Not far from the Abraham Lincoln, the sea was lit up from underneath. This was no mere phosphorescent phenomenon. The monster gave off that very intense but inexplicable glow that several captains had mentioned in their reports. This magnificent radiance had to come from some force with a great illuminating capacity.

A universal shout went up from the frigate.

“Quiet!” Commander Farragut said. “Reverse engines!”

Sailors rushed to the helm, engineers to their machinery.

“Right your helm![18] Engines forward!” Commander Farragut called.

These orders were executed. The frigate wanted to retreat, but the unearthly animal came at us with a speed double our own.

We gasped. More stunned than afraid, we stood mute and motionless. The animal played with us. It made a full circle around the frigate and wrapped us in sheets of electricity that were like luminous dust. Then it retreated two or three miles, leaving a phosphorescent trail. Suddenly the monster abruptly dashed toward the ship with frightening speed, stopped sharply twenty feet from us, and died out. Then it reappeared on the other side of the ship.

Meanwhile I was astonished at the frigate’s maneuvers. It was not fighting. Built to pursue, it was being pursued, and I commented on this to Commander Farragut. His face, ordinarily so emotionless, was stamped with indescribable astonishment.

“Professor Aronnax,” he answered me, “I don’t know what kind of fearsome creature I see, and I don’t want my frigate running foolish risks in all this darkness. Besides, how should we attack this unknown creature, how should we defend ourselves against it? Let’s wait for daylight, and then we’ll play a different role.”

“You’ve no further doubts, commander, as to the nature of this animal?”

“No, sir, it’s apparently a gigantic narwhale, and an electric one. It’s surely the most dreadful animal ever conceived by our Creator.”

The whole crew stayed on their feet all night long. No one even thought of sleeping. Unable to compete with the monster’s speed, the Abraham Lincoln slowed down. The narwhale mimicked the frigate, simply rode with the waves.

However, near midnight it disappeared, or to use a more appropriate expression, “it went out,” like a huge glowworm. Had it fled from us?

At 12:53 in the morning, a deafening hiss became audible, resembling the sound made by a waterspout expelled with tremendous intensity.

“Ned Land,” the commander asked, “you’ve often heard whales bellowing?”

“Often, sir, but never a whale like this, whose sighting earned me $2,000.”

“Correct, the prize is rightfully yours. But tell me, isn’t that the noise cetaceans make when they spurt water from their blowholes?”

“The very noise, sir, but this one’s way louder. So there can be no mistake. There’s definitely a whale lurking in our waters. With your permission, sir,” the harpooner added, “tomorrow at daybreak we’ll have words with it.”

“If it’s in a mood to listen to you, Mr. Land,” I replied in a tone far from convinced.

Near two o’clock in the morning, the core of light reappeared, no less intense, five miles to windward of the Abraham Lincoln. Despite the distance, despite the noise of wind and sea, we could distinctly hear the animal’s panting breath. Seemingly, the moment this enormous narwhale came up to breathe at the surface of the ocean, air was sucked into its lungs like steam into the huge cylinders.

“Hmm!” I said to myself. “Now that’s a whale of a whale!”

We stayed on the alert until daylight, getting ready for action. Our chief officer loaded the blunderbusses. Ned Land sharpened his harpoon, a dreadful weapon in his hands.

At six o’clock day began to break, and with the dawn’s early light, the narwhale’s electric glow disappeared. At seven o’clock a very dense morning mist shrank the horizon, and our best spyglasses were unable to pierce it. The outcome: disappointment and anger.

At eight o’clock the horizon grew wider and clearer all at once. Suddenly, just as on the previous evening, Ned Land’s voice was audible.

“There’s the thing, astern to port!” the harpooner shouted.

Every eye looked toward the point indicated.

There, a mile and a half from the frigate, a long blackish body emerged a meter above the waves. Its tail was creating a considerable eddy.

Our frigate drew nearer to the cetacean. I put its length at only 250 feet. Its girth was more difficult to judge, but the animal seemed to be wonderfully proportioned in all three dimensions.

While I was observing this phenomenal creature, two jets of steam and water sprang from its blowholes and rose to an altitude of forty meters.

The crew were waiting impatiently for orders from their leader. The latter, after carefully observing the animal, called for his engineer.

“Clap on full steam![19]” the commander said.

“Aye, sir,” the engineer replied.

Three cheers greeted this order. The hour of battle had sounded. A few moments later, the frigate’s two funnels vomited torrents of black smoke.

Driven forward by its powerful propeller, the Abraham Lincoln headed straight for the animal. Unconcerned, the latter let us come within half a cable length; then it got up a little speed, retreated, and kept its distance.

This chase dragged on for about three-quarters of an hour, but it was useless. At this rate, it was obvious that we would never catch up with it.

“Ned Land!” Commander Farragut called.

The Canadian reported at once.

“Well, Mr. Land,” the commander asked, “do you still advise putting my longboats to sea?”

“No, sir,” Ned Land replied, “because that beast won’t be caught against its will.”

“Then what should we do?”

“If we can get within a harpoon length, I’ll harpoon the brute.”

“Go to it, Ned,” Commander Farragut replied.

Ned Land made his way to his post. We verified that our ship was going at the rate of 18.5 miles per hour. But that damned animal also did a speed of 18.5. This was humiliating for one of the fastest ships in the American navy.

What a chase! No, I can’t describe the excitement that shook my very being. Ned Land stayed at his post, harpoon in hand. Several times the animal let us approach. But by noon we were no farther along than at eight o’clock in the morning.

Commander Farragut then decided to use more direct methods.

“Bah!” he said. “So that animal is faster than us. All right, we’ll see if it can outrun our conical shells[20]!

The cannoneer fired a shot, but his shell passed some feet above the cetacean, which stayed half a mile off.

“$500 to the man who can pierce that infernal beast!” the Commander shouted

An old gray-bearded gunner approached the cannon, put it in position, and took aim. There was a mighty explosion, mingled with cheers from the crew.

The shell reached its target; it hit the animal, but not in the usual fashion—it bounced off that rounded surface and vanished into the sea two miles out.

“Oh!” said the old gunner in his anger. “That rascal must be covered with six-inch armor plate!”

“Curse the beast!” Commander Farragut shouted.

The hunt was on again, and Commander Farragut leaned over to me, saying:

“I’ll chase that animal till my frigate explodes!”

“Yes,” I replied, “and nobody would blame you!”

We could still hope that the animal would tire out. But no such luck. Hour after hour went by without it showing the least sign of weariness.

Night fell and wrapped the surging ocean in its shadows. By then I thought our expedition had come to an end, that we would never see this fantastic animal again. I was mistaken.

At 10:50 in the evening, that electric light reappeared, just as clear and intense as the night before. The narwhale seemed motionless. Was it asleep perhaps, weary from its workday, just riding with the waves? This was our chance, and Commander Farragut was determined to take full advantage of it. He gave his orders.

Ned Land went to resume his post. The frigate approached without making a sound, stopped two cable lengths from the animal. Not a soul breathed on board. A profound silence reigned over the deck.

Just then I saw Ned Land below me, one hand grasping the martingale, the other brandishing his dreadful harpoon. Barely twenty feet separated him from the motionless animal.

All at once his arm shot forward and the harpoon was launched. I heard the weapon collide resonantly, as if it had hit some hard substance.

The electric light suddenly went out, and two enormous waterspouts crashed onto the deck of the frigate, racing like a torrent, toppling crewmen, breaking masts.

A hideous collision occurred, and thrown over the rail, I was hurled into the sea.

Chapter 7

Although I was startled by this unexpected descent, I have a very clear recollection of my sensations during it.

At first I was dragged about twenty feet under. I’m a good swimmer, and I didn’t lose my head [21]on the way down. With two vigorous kicks, I came back to the surface of the sea.

My first concern was to look for the frigate. Had the crew seen me? Would Commander Farragut put a longboat to sea? Could I hope to be rescued?

The gloom was profound. I saw a black mass disappearing eastward, where its running lights were fading out in the distance. It was the frigate.

“Help! Help!” I shouted, swimming desperately toward the Abraham Lincoln.

My clothes were weighing me down. The water glued them to my body, it was paralyzing my movements. I was sinking! I was suffocating!

“Help!”

This was the last shout I gave. My mouth was filling with water.

Suddenly my clothes were seized by energetic hands, somebody pulled me abruptly back to the surface of the sea, and yes, I heard these words pronounced in my ear:

“If master would oblige me by leaning on my shoulder, master will swim with much greater ease.”

With one hand I seized the arm of my loyal Conseil.

“You!” I said. “You!”

“Myself,” Conseil replied, “and at master’s command.”

“That collision threw you overboard along with me?”

“Not at all. But I followed master.”

The fine lad!

“What about the frigate?” I asked.

“The frigate?” Conseil replied, rolling over on his back. “Just as I jumped overboard, I heard the men at the helm shout, ‘Our propeller and rudder are smashed!’”

“Smashed?”

“Yes, smashed by the monster’s tusk! I believe it’s the sole injury the Abraham Lincoln has sustained. But most inconveniently for us, the ship can no longer steer. However, we still have a few hours before us, and in a few hours one can do a great many things!”

Conseil’s composure cheered me up. I swam more vigorously.

Our circumstances were dreadful. Perhaps they hadn’t seen us go overboard; and even if they had, the frigate couldn’t return to leeward after us. So we could count only on its longboats.

I decided to divide our energies so we wouldn’t both be worn out at the same time: while one of us lay on his back, staying motionless with arms crossed and legs outstretched, the other would swim and propel his partner forward.

I calculated on eight hours of swimming until sunrise. A strenuous task, but feasible, thanks to our relieving each other. The sea was pretty smooth and barely tired us.

Near one o’clock in the morning, I was overcome with tremendous exhaustion. And I soon heard the poor Conseil gasping; his breathing became shallow and quick. I didn’t think he could stand such exertions for much longer.

“Go on! Go on!” I told him.

“Leave master behind?” he replied. “Never!”

The moon appeared. The surface of the sea glistened under its rays. I held up my head. I saw the frigate. It was five miles from us and formed a dark, barely perceptible mass. But as for longboats, not a one in sight!

I tried to call out. What was the use at such a distance! My swollen lips wouldn’t let a single sound through. Conseil could still articulate a few words, and I heard him repeat at intervals:

“Help! Help!”

We listened. And it may have been a ringing in my ear, but it seemed to me that Conseil’s shout had received an answer back.

“Did you hear that?” I muttered.

“Yes, yes!”

And Conseil hurled another desperate plea into space.

This time there could be no mistake! A human voice had answered us! Was it the voice of some other victim of that collision suffered by our ship? Or was it one of the frigate’s longboats, hailing us out of the gloom?

Conseil made one final effort, he raised himself half out of the water, then fell back exhausted.

“What did you see?”

“I saw … ,” he muttered, “I saw … but we mustn’t talk … save our strength … !”

What had he seen? Conseil kept towing me. Sometimes he looked up, stared straight ahead, and shouted a request for directions, which was answered by a voice that was getting closer and closer. I could barely hear it. I was at the end of my strength; my fingers gave out; my hands were no help to me; my mouth opened convulsively, filling with brine. I raised my head one last time, then I fainted.

Someone was massaging me vigorously. I half opened my eyes.

“Conseil!” I muttered.

Just then, in the last light of a moon, I saw a face that wasn’t Conseil’s but which I recognized at once.

“Ned!” I exclaimed.

“In person, sir, and still after his prize!” the Canadian replied.

“You were thrown overboard after the frigate’s collision?”

“Yes, professor, but I was luckier than you, and right away I was able to set foot on this floating islet.”

“Islet?”

“Or in other words, on our gigantic narwhale.”

“Explain yourself, Ned.”

“It’s just that I soon realized why my harpoon couldn’t puncture its hide.”

“Why, Ned, why?”

“Because, professor, this beast is made of steel!”

The Canadian’s last words caused a sudden upheaval in my brain. I swiftly hoisted myself to the summit of this half-submerged creature or object that was serving as our refuge. I tested it with my foot. Obviously it was some hard, impenetrable substance, not the soft matter that makes up the bodies of our big marine mammals.

The blackish back supporting me was smooth and polished. And it was made of riveted plates[22].

No doubts were possible! This animal, this monster, this natural phenomenon that had puzzled the whole scientific world, was an even more astonishing phenomenon—a phenomenon made by the hand of man.

Even if I had discovered that some fabulous, mythological creature really existed, it wouldn’t have given me such a terrific mental jolt.

There was no question now. We were lying on the back of some kind of underwater boat that boasted the shape of an immense steel fish.

“But then,” I said, “does this contraption contain some sort of locomotive mechanism, and a crew to run it?”

“Apparently,” the harpooner replied. “And yet for the three hours I’ve lived on this floating island, it hasn’t shown a sign of life.”

“This boat hasn’t moved at all?”

“No, Professor Aronnax. It just rides with the waves.”

“But we know that it’s certainly gifted with great speed. Now then, since an engine is needed to generate that speed, and a mechanic to run that engine, I conclude: we’re saved.”

“Humph!” Ned Land muttered. “As long as it swims, I’ve no complaints. But if it dives, I wouldn’t give $2.00 for my life!”

So it was imperative to make contact with someone inside the plating of this machine. I searched its surface for an opening or a hatch; but the lines of rivets were straight and uniform.

Moreover, the moon then disappeared and left us in profound darkness. We had to wait for daylight to find some way of getting inside this underwater boat.

Near four o’clock in the morning, the submersible picked up speed. We could barely cope with this dizzying rush.

Finally the long night was over. I thought I heard indistinct sounds, a sort of elusive harmony produced by distant musical chords. What beings lived inside this strange boat? What mechanical force allowed it to move about with such prodigious speed?

Daylight appeared. The morning mists surrounded us. I was about to proceed with a careful examination of the hull, when I felt it sinking little by little.

“Oh, damnation!” Ned Land shouted, stamping his foot on the resonant sheet iron. “Open up there, you navigators!”

Fortunately this submerging movement stopped. From inside the boat, there suddenly came noises of iron fastenings. One of the steel plates flew up, a man appeared, gave a bizarre yell, and instantly disappeared.

A few moments later, eight fellows appeared silently, their faces like masks, and dragged us down into their fearsome machine.

Chapter 8

This capture was carried out with lightning speed. My companions and I had no time to collect ourselves. I don’t know how they felt, but as for me, I was shivering all over. With whom were we dealing? Surely with some pirates.

The narrow hatch had barely closed over me when I was surrounded by profound darkness. I felt my naked feet clinging to the steps of an iron ladder. Ned Land and Conseil were behind me. At the foot of the ladder, a door opened and instantly closed behind us.

We were alone. Where? I couldn’t say, I couldn’t even imagine. All was darkness.

“Damnation!” Ned Land exclaimed. “These people are not very hospitable! I wouldn’t be surprised if they were cannibals!”

“Calm yourself, Ned my friend,” Conseil replied serenely. “We aren’t in a kettle yet!”

“In a kettle, no,” the Canadian shot back, “but in an oven for sure. Luckily my knife hasn’t left me, and I can still see well enough to use it. The first one of these bandits who lays a hand on me—”

“Don’t be so irritable, Ned,” I then told the harpooner, “and don’t ruin things for us. Who knows whether they might be listening to us? Instead, let’s try to find out where we are!”

Half an hour had already gone by without our situation changing, when our eyes saw blinding light. Our prison lit up all at once. I recognized the electric glow.

“Finally! It’s light enough to see!” Ned Land exclaimed, knife in hand.

“Yes,” I replied. “But as for our situation, we’re still in the dark.”

“Master must learn patience,” said the emotionless Conseil.

This sudden illumination of our cabin enabled me to examine its details. It contained only a table and five stools. Its invisible door must have been hermetically sealed. Not a sound reached our ears. Everything seemed dead inside this boat. Was it in motion, or stationary on the surface of the ocean, or sinking into the depths? I couldn’t tell.

A door opened, and two men appeared. One was short and stocky, powerfully muscled, broad shouldered, robust of limbs, the hair black and luxuriant, the mustache heavy, the eyes bright and penetrating.

The second stranger was a man of great pride, his calm, firm gaze seemed to reflect thinking on an elevated plane. Whether this individual was thirty-five or fifty years of age, I could not precisely state. He was tall, his forehead broad, his nose straight, his mouth clearly etched, his teeth magnificent, his hands refined. One unusual detail: his eyes were spaced a little far from each other and could instantly take in nearly a quarter of the horizon.

Wearing caps made of sea-otter fur, and shod in sealskin fishing boots, these two strangers were dressed in clothing made from some unique fabric that allowed great freedom of movement.

The taller of the two—apparently the leader on board—examined us with the greatest care but without pronouncing a word. Then, turning to his companion, he conversed with him in a language I didn’t recognize. It was a sonorous, harmonious, flexible dialect.

The other replied with a shake of the head and added two or three incomprehensible words. Then he looked at me.

I replied in clear French that I wasn’t familiar with his language; but he didn’t seem to understand me.

“Still, master should tell our story,” Conseil said to me. “Perhaps these gentlemen will grasp a few words of it!”

I tried again, telling the tale of our adventures, clearly articulating my every syllable, and not leaving out a single detail. I stated our names and titles; then, in order, I introduced myself, Professor Aronnax, my servant Conseil, and Mr. Ned Land, harpooner.

The man with calm, gentle eyes listened to me serenely, even courteously, and paid remarkable attention. But nothing indicated that he understood my story. When I finished, he didn’t pronounce a single word.

One resource still left was to speak English. Perhaps they would be familiar with this nearly universal language.

“Come on, it’s your turn,” I told the harpooner. “Mr. Land. Try for a more favorable result than mine.”

Ned started our story all over again. Its content was the same, but the form differed. Carried away by his volatile temperament, the Canadian complained vehemently about being imprisoned in defiance of his civil rights. And he added that we were dying of hunger. This was perfectly true, but we had nearly forgotten the fact.

Our visitors didn’t not say a word. I no longer knew what tactic to pursue, when Conseil told me:

“If master will authorize me, I’ll tell the whole business in German.”

“What! You know German?” I exclaimed.

“Like most Flemish people, with all due respect to master.”

And Conseil, in his serene voice, described for the third time our story. But despite our narrator’s fine accent, the German language met with no success.

Finally, as a last resort, I tried to narrate our adventures in Latin. With the same negative result.

The two strangers exchanged a few words in their incomprehensible language and withdrew. The door closed again.

“This is outrageous!” Ned Land shouted. “We speak French, English, German, and Latin to theserogues, and neither of them has the decency to even answer back!”

“Calm down, Ned,” I told the seething harpooner. “Anger won’t get us anywhere. We mustn’t despair. Let us wait a bit before we form our views on the commander and crew of this boat.”

“My views are fully formed,” Ned Land shot back. “They’re rogues!”

“Oh good! And from what country?”

“Roguedom!”

“My gallant Ned, that country isn’t clearly marked on maps of the world. What is the nationality of these two strangers? Neither English, French, nor German, that’s all we can say. But there must be southern blood in them. Probably they’re Spaniards, Turks, Arabs, or East Indians. And as for their speech, it’s incomprehensible.”