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    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
    Ebook411 pages11 hours

    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

    By Jules Verne

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    No home library is complete without the classics! Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is a keepsake to be read and treasured.

    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea tells the classic story of Captain Nemo and his submarine Nautilus as seen from the point of view of Professor Pierre Aronnax, who was commissioned to find the mysterious sea monster responsible for sinking ships. Written by French science fiction writer Jules Verne in 1870, the novel illuminates themes that transcend time, such as man versus nature, freedom, and revenge. Now available as part of the Word Cloud Classics series, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is a must-have addition to the libraries of all classic literature lovers.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCanterbury Classics
    Release dateOct 1, 2012
    ISBN9781607108375
    Author

    Jules Verne

    Victor Marie Hugo (1802–1885) was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement and is considered one of the greatest French writers. Hugo’s best-known works are the novels Les Misérables, 1862, and The Hunchbak of Notre-Dame, 1831, both of which have had several adaptations for stage and screen.

    Read more from Jules Verne

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    Reviews for Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

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    • 4/5
      I loved all the descriptions of underwater life, and the different places the characters visit. I wanted to become a marine biologist after I finished reading!
    • 4/5
      20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is one of those classic science fiction books that should be on any science fiction fans reading list. Being around so long (Verne originally published the book in 1869), and available in so many versions, translations, and media, can make reviewing the book difficult. Most readers either have read the book, or will want to read it because it is one of the "classics" of the science fiction genre. That caveat being said, here's my review of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. The story opens with reports of strange sightings and damage to ships by an unknown creature. The narrator, Pierre Aronnax, is a professor of the natural sciences and a medical doctor from Paris. While returning from a trip to collect fossils and other specimens from Nebraska he is given a chance to hunt down this mysterious monster aboard the ship, Abraham Lincoln. Aronnax has previously hypothesized that the creature responsible for the encounters is a large form of narwhal. Joining Aronnax on the trip is his servant, Conseil, and a whaler and harpooner, Ned Land. The Abraham Lincoln eventually encounters the supposed monster, and the three men are thrown overboard when the creature rams the ship. They are miraculously rescued when they discover that it was not a creature at all, but a submersible boat. The rest of the novel covers the various adventures and settings that Aronnax and the others discover while being the "guests" of Captain Nemo, the builder of the famed Nautilus. As with most of Verne's works, the story is told in the form of a travelogue, with the story being recounted as if reading from a journal or interview with the narrator - Professor Aronnax. The stories of adventure - traveling under Suez, hunting in a kelp forest, seeking the South Pole and being trapped in ice, and the famous attack of the Nautilus by giant squid - are interspersed with more sedate discussions of the workings of the ship, or the Professor's enthrallment with Captain Nemo. That is quite interesting since Nemo has essentially captured the three men and refuses them to ever leave the Nautilus again. Verne's gift is to create a thrilling adventure and to expound upon the wonders of technology. His description of the Nautilus and its operation is decades ahead of its time. He even describes a practical, and nearly identical to the modern equivalent, SCUBA system for breathing underwater that was about 80 years ahead of its time. Verne does miss the mark with many of his speculations about the natural world. He didn't foresee the theory of plate tectonics, and his description of Antarctica misses the mark. (And I give him creative license to include the fabled Atlantis - it was an adventure story after all.) But that doesn't detract from the adventure story that he is telling.My biggest problem with the story is with the characters. Verne spends so much time recounting the travelogue of Aronnax that the characters are not fleshed out. The only one who seems real is Aronnax himself. His two companions, the forgettable Conseil and the stereotyped Ned Land (who's last name is entirely reflected in his constant desire to flee the Nautilus) are mere window dressings for Aronnax, somebody he can reflect his own ideas upon. But what is really annoying is that we get to know so very little about Captain Nemo himself. A suburb engineer, master of the sea, fearless and stoic in the face of danger, we learn so little about his character. There are many secrets about Nemo that Verne teases the reader with, but we are never shown the answers to them, such as his motivations, the reason he quit the land to forever roam the sea, or his past. That was a disappointment. If you are a fan of science fiction I recommend that you read Verne's classic at some point. Even among his own works I do not consider it to be his best, but it is worth the read to see the early works of the science fiction genre. If you want to listen to the work (like I did) I do highly recommend the version from Tantor Media narrated by Michael Prichard. I am familiar with Prichard's narration from other works and he again delivers a great performance here. (I checked out this version from my local library.)
    • 4/5
      How to begin... there are some aspects of this book that were extremely fascinating and the adventure that Jules Verne writes is captivating. What I did not care for were the excessive uses of nautical terms as well as zoological/biological terms used to describe everything in the book. Perhaps it is just more evidence of the dumbing down of society as we no longer describe things in these fashions and makes it difficult for the reader of today to follow. Even with the author's fluent and graceful writing. The thing that most irritated me, was that all my life I've been led to think the Nautilus was attacked by a giant squid when that chapter in the book was described VERY differently! However, I guess I cannot fault the original story for how other interpretations have distorted it. Still, I can see why this book is so timeless and I encourage everyone to give it a read to enjoy the great adventure with mad Captain Nemo under the sea.
    • 3/5
      There are some really good ideas in this book - The ideal of Captain Nemo's freedom, travelling in a wonderful and (at the time when it was written) innovative contraption The Nautilus, exploring the globe and not conforming to society in any way. The story was gripping in places but I had very high expectations of how fantastical this book was going to be, so I was a little bit disappointed at the lack of consistency regarding the excitement rating in the storytelling. Journey To The Centre Of The Earth is much better!
    • 4/5
      An excellent classic. Lots of stuff that I did not remember
      about the book. Captain Nemo was way ahead of his time...
    • 4/5
      I suppose that as an 'abridged just for you' version of a book, I shouldn't have had my expectations up so high. But I did, and while the overall novel was great, I really, really wanted more out of this book. Especially description-wise. It kept cutting out halfway or jumping from item to item so quickly I got minor whiplash. I am unsure if an unabridged version exists, but I hope it finds its way to me at some point.

      However, all that being said, I rather enjoyed the novel. It was fantastic, if a bit brief.
    • 3/5
      a good read
    • 4/5
      I have tried reading this book before and never finished it. I thought that I would sit down, read, and not pick up another book until I finished this one. I now understand why I couldn't finish it the first time.This book was by no means a bad book, in fact it is a wonderful book. The writing was pretty good and the story itself was pretty awesome. I am sure that if I had been able to read it in 1870 or even 1900 then it would have been a mind blower. Unfortunately I have not yet finished constructing my time machine, so here I am in 2007 reading it. What detracted from the story for me was the amount of description.. mainly because I have seen subs, I have seen what lays under the sea, and nothing is new to me (well that's not entirely true). It is quite remarkable that in the time that it was written that Verne would have so much insight though... truly remarkable.
    • 5/5
      Vernes undersea adventure is an amazing trip that I've taken many times. Although history has proven his vision to be incorrect on many occasions in this yarn, it is still a mesmerizing odyssey. One of my favorite books.
    • 4/5
      Another episodic book full of lists! But I didn't enjoy it quite as much as Moby Dick; the lists in that one were at least about a range of different things, but I can only read so many names of fish species before I start to fall asleep. I did mostly enjoy this one, especially because it's science fiction where the sciences that are fictionalised are like... electric motors and submarine construction. The chapter where they argue about whether electricity is as good as steam was particularly entertaining.The manservant Conseil did start to get on my nerves a bit towards the end, around the "if only I didn't have to breathe to leave more air for Master" section.
    • 2/5
      The story showed promise and I can sympathise with Nemo. Unfortunately, the author uses the whole thing as a vehicle to tell the world (or just France; I forget who he's trying to impress) how smart he is. Verne should have read more Wells before trying to write.
    • 3/5
      An okay read for me. Highly detailed, but those details tended to get a bit long-winded and I found myself getting bored with them after a while. I would have liked a little more insight into the personality of Captain Nemo and exactly what happened to make him shun the world. I felt like that was a very important part that seemed to be missing.
    • 2/5
      The bits without the sea/fish discriptions are quite good. Shame there are so many discriptive passages.
    • 3/5
      At first I thought that the title implied a great depth, but no, 20,000 leagues is how far our adventures sail, submerged in Captain Nemo's early submarine.Verne's dramatic descriptions are spot-on as always, but he does grow tiresome sometimes when he insists on naming every species observed under the sea - down to the genus and everything. This is a classic adventure that remains very much of its time without really sharing anything terribly special, unlike some of his other work - especially "80 Days."
    • 5/5
      I first read this book when i was about 12, and now it's all worn out. I love it!
    • 5/5
      Awesome book!! I now understand why Verne is considered one of the Masters.One of my favorites in my collection, an old old copy.
    • 5/5
      This book shows the true roots of science fiction. A story so fully of carefully researched facts about the various oceans of the world and the fish and plant life in them that you could almost believe that the nautilus and captain nemo did exist and the wonders they showed our narrator exsisted as well.
      Science fiction is about taking what we know and expanding it just that little bit more into the impossible. Or the one day maybe possible and then seeing what might happen.
      Quiet apart from that this is a story that brings home the massive change in attitude our society has had in regard to the environment and its study. Nemo himself is somewhat of a conservationist "this would be killing for the sake of killing" he tells Ned the harpooner. He kills willingly for food or in his search for revenge but will not be party to senseless destruction.
      We never learn what Nemo actually hopes to achieve or what happens to the nautilus in the end. In many ways I think this would have added to the believability of the story when it was first published.
    • 5/5
      For reasons I cannot now comprehend, I checked this book out of my school library in second grade and read it all through class. Also for reasons I can't explain, I LOVED it. Which is why it has a five star rating, even though in all honest consideration it's probably not that great. I can't even be honest anymore; it's stuck to my memory like a twig between teeth, ever-present and slightly minty tasting. There are some very involved politics here, interesting from an anti-nuclear-war position. I was fascinated with the use of sea life for supplies as a child, and the imagined technology of the submarine has held up surprisingly well. If either of those things interest you, pick this book up. I'd also recommend it for anyone interested in older science-fiction, or for those reading through the Verne canon (of which I think this is the best). Otherwise, well, the five stars aren't as brilliant as they might appear.
    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed the descriptions
    • 3/5
      I've long wanted to read the story of Captain Nemo and the undersea adventures of 20000 Leagues Under the Sea. I'm now glad to have read it and overall enjoyed the story. I can understand how this story had such a large impression on society in the late 1800s and early 1900s where life under the oceans was almost a complete mystery. I found the novel a bit dry and slow at parts but it was still a pleasure to read. For those looking to read a novel which had such huge impact on the development of science fiction one needs not look further than this.
    • 4/5
      Given this tale's reputation, I was expecting a rip-roaring adventure of man against nature, technology versus beast, maybe even a bit of pirate-style swashbuckling excitement. Instead, I got a travelogue - the diary of a scientist classifying life below the ocean. The famed squid that seems to figure so heavily in every retelling of 20,000 Leagues factors into a single chapter out of forty-seven. That being said, I still enjoyed it. I just wish it wasn't so horribly mis-sold (kinda like when someone accustomed to Boris Karloff and Halloween costumes reads the original Frankenstein for the first time. It's still great, it's just...not what you've been told to expect).
    • 4/5
      This book intrigued me more than I expect, given the profoundly boring first few pages. Once the narrator finally was aboard the Nautilus, Verne's ability as a science fiction adventure write bloomed. He described dazzling underwater worlds, strange men and animals, and mysteries of the depth with excellent prose. I can see why this is a classic science fiction novel. Recommend for the ocean lover and the nerd alike.
    • 4/5
      Probably my biggest take away from this is that one must always watch out for the cult mentality. It's quite lethal.
    • 4/5
      This rating is a childhood rating. Hooked me on Science Fiction when I read it.
    • 4/5
      To be upfront, I thought there would be a lot more action in this story. I never read it in school, so coming at it as an adult was intriguing. That being said, I was not let down. Verne is very versed in sea life (this book is chock full of jargon) and as a science nerd, it was fascinating. And somehow, through all the science and tech, he was able to create a story that is often exhilarating.
    • 5/5
      I loved this story when I was a kid and my rating is based on those memories. I doubt I would rate it lower if I read it again.
    • 3/5
      Good book !
    • 3/5
      A classic that I had always meant to read . . .The first thing I learned was that I had always been in error in my expectations from the title. I had thought that the ship had descended 20,000 leagues under the ocean, but, of course, the submarine had merely undertaken a journey of 20,000 league while submerged. As a result, the speculative science basis for the book was much better grounded, and Verne gets many things right - along with a series of clangers.I had recently read Edgar Allan Poe, and found many similarities in their approach to early science fiction (to creating the genre of science fiction, really). A good read.Read March 2017
    • 5/5
      I loved this book. In the begining the author tells the reader that he, Mr Aronnax, studies the ocean and is quite famous for his work. te book takes place in the early 1800s, so their sciences are not very advanced. The author goes on to tell about the rumors and sighting of a giant sea monster the size of an island, being a man of science Mr Aronnax is very skepical at first but is swayed to believe that a giant moster does live. When he is invited to go hunt for this notorious beast he jumps at the chance and he also brings allong his servant Conciel. After voyaging for days they finally find thebeast, but to their surprize it is actully a submarine vessle, navigated by Captin Nemo who cut himself off from life above the water entirely and has a mysterious way of going about things . When they acciedently get thrown to mercy of Captin Nemo and his under water exporatory they find that there is no escape. While escape is on the mind they are taken around the globe, and to the depths of the sea. These captives are witnessing and experiencing things that normaly people would never even get a chance to see.The author is very descriptive when is comes to the bottom of the ocean, these places and animals are described to be SO magestic SO beautiful and SO breathtaking that I had dreams about these fictional places for DAYS. The men have wonderous and exciting adventures under the sea, yet are still taken captive. Should they choose to abandon shipp and flee to shore or should they take up this exciting and opportunistic, yet isolated lifestyle? I would recomend this book to anyone who enjoys science fiction novels or who really loves a good piece of literature. This book was very challenging because it inculded a lot of scientific vocabulary that I, as a freshman, am not used to. But since this book was so exciting i couldn't put it down. Out of five stars i would give it four and a half to five. I really loved this book and I hope you do to.
    • 4/5
      Somehow this manages to be quite fascinating, despite the fact that the plot is only touched upon and large sections of the book are nothing more than descriptions of various denizens on the sea. It is hard not to find the narrator's pompous arrogance ridiculous to the point of amusement.

    Book preview

    Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne

    PART ONE

    CHAPTER

    I

    A SHIFTING REEF

    The year 1866 was signalized by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten. Not to mention rumors which agitated the maritime population and excited the public mind, even in the interior of continents, seafaring men were particularly excited. Merchants, common sailors, captains of vessels, skippers, both of Europe and America, naval officers of all countries, and the governments of several states on the two continents, were deeply interested in the matter.

    For some time past vessels had been met by an enormous thing, a long object, spindle-shaped, occasionally phosphorescent, and infinitely larger and more rapid in its movements than a whale.

    The facts relating to this apparition (entered in various log-books) agreed in most respects as to the shape of the object or creature in question, the untiring rapidity of its movements, its surprising power of locomotion, and the peculiar life with which it seemed endowed. If it was a whale, it surpassed in size all those hitherto classified in science. Taking into consideration the mean of observations made at divers times—rejecting the timid estimate of those who assigned to this object a length of two hundred feet, equally with the exaggerated opinions which set it down as a mile in width and three in length—we might fairly conclude that this mysterious being surpassed greatly all dimensions admitted by the learned ones of the day, if it existed at all. And that it did exist was an undeniable fact; and, with that tendency which disposes the human mind in favor of the marvelous, we can understand the excitement produced in the entire world by this supernatural apparition. As to classing it in the list of fables, the idea was out of the question.

    On July 20, 1866, the steamer Governor Higginson, of the Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company, had met this moving mass five miles off the east coast of Australia. Captain Baker thought at first that he was in the presence of an unknown sandbank; he even prepared to determine its exact position when two columns of water, projected by the mysterious object, shot with a hissing noise a hundred and fifty feet up into the air. Now, unless the sandbank had been submitted to the intermittent eruption of a geyser, the Governor Higginson had to do neither more nor less than with an aquatic mammal, unknown till then, which threw up from its blowholes columns of water mixed with air and vapor.

    Similar facts were observed on July 23 in the same year, in the Pacific Ocean, by the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific Steam Navigation Company. But this extraordinary creature could transport itself from one place to another with surprising velocity; as, in an interval of three days, the Governor Higginson and the Columbus had observed it at two different points of the chart, separated by a distance of more than seven hundred nautical leagues.

    Fifteen days later, two thousand miles farther off, the Helvetia, of the Compagnie-Nationale, and the Shannon, of the Royal Mail Steamship Company, sailing to windward in that portion of the Atlantic lying between the United States and Europe, respectively signaled the monster to each other in 42° 15’ north latitude and 60° 35’ west longitude. In these simultaneous observations they thought themselves justified in estimating the minimum length of the mammal at more than three hundred and fifty feet, as the Shannon and Helvetia were of smaller dimensions than it, though they measured three hundred feet overall.

    Now the largest whales, those which frequent those parts of the sea around the Aleutian, Kulammak, and Umgullich Islands, have never exceeded the length of sixty yards, if they attain that.

    In every place of great resort the monster was the fashion. They sang of it in the cafés, ridiculed it in the papers, and represented it on the stage. All kinds of stories were circulated regarding it. There appeared in the papers caricatures of every gigantic and imaginary creature, from the white whale, the terrible Moby Dick of sub-arctic regions, to the immense kraken, whose tentacles could entangle a ship of five hundred tons and hurry it into the abyss of the ocean. The legends of ancient times were even revived.

    Then burst forth the unending argument between the believers and the nonbelievers in the societies of the wise and the scientific journals. The question of the monster inflamed all minds. Editors of scientific journals, quarreling with believers in the supernatural, spilled seas of ink during this memorable campaign, some even drawing blood; for from the sea serpent they came to direct personalities.

    For six months war was waged with various fortune in the leading articles of the Geographical Institution of Brazil, the Royal Academy of Science in Berlin, the British Association, the Smithsonian Institution of Washington, in the discussions of the Indian Archipelago, of the Cosmos of the Abbé Moigno, in the Mittheilungen of Petermann, in the scientific chronicles of the great journals of France and other countries. The cheaper journals replied keenly and with inexhaustible zest. These satirical writers parodied a remark of Linnaeus, quoted by the adversaries of the monster, maintaining that nature did not make fools, and adjured their contemporaries not to give the lie to nature, by admitting the existence of krakens, sea-serpents, Moby Dicks, and other lubrications of delirious sailors. At length an article in a wellknown satirical journal by a favorite contributor, the chief of staff, settled the monster, like Hippolytus, giving it the death-blow amid a universal burst of laughter. Wit had conquered science.

    During the first months of the year 1867 the question seemed buried, never to revive, when new facts were brought before the public. It was then no longer a scientific problem to be solved, but a real danger seriously to be avoided. The question took quite another shape. The monster became a small island, a rock, a reef, but a reef of indefinite and shifting proportions.

    On March 5, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company, finding herself during the night in 27° 30’ latitude and 72° 15’ longitude, struck on her starboard quarter a rock, marked in no chart for that part of the sea. Under the combined efforts of the wind and its four hundred horsepower, it was going at the rate of thirteen knots. Had it not been for the superior strength of the hull of the Moravian, she would have been broken by the shock and gone down with the 237 passengers she was bringing home from Canada.

    The accident happened about five o’clock in the morning, as the day was breaking. The officers of the quarter-deck hurried to the after-part of the vessel. They examined the sea with the most careful attention. They saw nothing but a strong eddy about three cables’ length distant, as if the surface had been violently agitated. The bearings of the place were taken exactly, and the Moravian continued its route without apparent damage. Had it struck on a submerged rock, or on an enormous wreck? They could not tell; but, on examination of the ship’s bottom when undergoing repairs, it was found that part of her keel was broken.

    This fact, so grave in itself, might perhaps have been forgotten like many others if, three weeks after, it had not been reenacted under similar circumstances. But, thanks to the nationality of the victim of the shock, thanks to the reputation of the company to which the vessel belonged, the circumstance became extensively circulated.

    On April 13, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the breeze favorable, the Scotia, of the Cunard Company’s line, found herself in 15° 12’ longitude and 45° 37’ latitude. She was going at the speed of thirteen knots and a half.

    At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, while the passengers were assembled at lunch in the great saloon, a slight shock was felt on the hull of the Scotia, on her quarter, a little aft of the port-paddle.

    The Scotia had not struck, but she had been struck, and seemingly by something rather sharp and penetrating than blunt. The shock had been so slight that no one had been alarmed, had it not been for the shouts of the carpenter’s watch, who rushed on to the bridge, exclaiming, We are sinking! We are sinking! At first the passengers were much frightened, but Captain Anderson hastened to reassure them. The danger could not be imminent. The Scotia, divided into seven compartments by strong partitions, could brave with impunity any leak. Captain Anderson went down immediately into the hold. He found that the sea was pouring into the fifth compartment; and the rapidity of the influx proved that the force of the water was considerable. Fortunately this compartment did not hold the boilers, or the fires would have been immediately extinguished. Captain Anderson ordered the engines to be stopped at once, and one of the men went down to ascertain the extent of the injury. Some minutes afterward they discovered the existence of a large hole, two yards in diameter, in the ship’s bottom. Such a leak could not be stopped; and the Scotia, her paddles half submerged, was obliged to continue her course. She was then three hundred miles from Cape Clear, and, after three days’ delay, which caused great uneasiness in Liverpool, she entered the basin of the company.

    The engineers visited the Scotia, which was put in dry dock. They could scarcely believe it possible; at two yards and a half below watermark was a regular rent, in the form of an isosceles triangle. The broken place in the iron plates was so perfectly defined that it could not have been more neatly done by a punch. It was clear, then, that the instrument producing the perforation was not of a common stamp and, after having been driven with prodigious strength, and piercing an iron plate one and three-eighth inches thick, had withdrawn itself by a backward motion.

    Such was the last fact, which resulted in exciting once more the torrent of public opinion. From this moment all unlucky casualties which could not be otherwise accounted for were put down to the monster.

    Upon this imaginary creature rested the responsibility of all these shipwrecks, which unfortunately were considerable; for of three thousand ships whose loss was annually recorded at Lloyd’s, the number of sailing and steamships supposed to be totally lost, from the absence of all news, amounted to not less than two hundred!

    Now, it was the monster who, justly or unjustly, was accused of their disappearance, and, thanks to it, communication between the different continents became more and more dangerous. The public demanded sharply that the seas should at any price be relieved from this formidable cetacean.

    CHAPTER

    II

    PRO AND CON

    At the period when these events took place, I had just returned from a scientific research in the disagreeable territory of Nebraska, in the United States. In virtue of my office as Assistant Professor in the Museum of Natural History in Paris, the French government had attached me to that expedition. After six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York toward the end of March, laden with a precious collection. My departure for France was fixed for the first days in May. Meanwhile I was occupying myself in classifying my mineralogical, botanical, and zoological riches, when the accident happened to the Scotia.

    I was perfectly up in the subject which was the question of the day. How could I be otherwise? I had read and reread all the American and European papers without being any nearer a conclusion. This mystery puzzled me. Under the impossibility of forming an opinion, I jumped from one extreme to the other. That there really was something could not be doubted, and the incredulous were invited to put their finger on the wound of the Scotia.

    On my arrival at New York the question was at its height. The theory of the floating island, and the unapproachable sandbank, supported by minds little competent to form a judgment, was abandoned. And, indeed, unless this shoal had a machine in its stomach, how could it change its position with such astonishing rapidity?

    From the same cause, the idea of a floating hull of an enormous wreck was given up.

    There remained, then, only two possible solutions of the question, which created two distinct parties: on one side, those who were for a monster of colossal strength; on the other, those who were for a submarine vessel of enormous motive power.

    But this last theory, plausible as it was, could not stand against inquiries made in both worlds. That a private gentleman should have such a machine at his command was not likely. Where, when, and how was it built? And how could its construction have been kept secret? Certainly a government might possess such a destructive machine. And in these disastrous times, when the ingenuity of man has multiplied the power of weapons of war, it was possible that, without the knowledge of others, a state might try to work such a formidable engine. After the chassepots came the torpedoes, after the torpedoes the submarine rams, then—the reaction. At least, I hope so.

    But the idea of a war machine fell before the declaration of governments. As public interest was in question, and transatlantic communications suffered, their veracity could not be doubted. But how admit that the construction of this submarine boat had escaped the public eye? For a private gentleman to keep the secret under such circumstances would be very difficult, and for a state whose every act is persistently watched by powerful rivals, certainly impossible.

    Upon my arrival in New York several persons did me the honor of consulting me on the phenomenon in question. I had published in France a work in quarto, in two volumes, entitled Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds. This book, highly approved of in the learned world, gained for me a special reputation in this rather obscure branch of Natural History. My advice was asked. As long as I could deny the reality of the fact, I confined myself to a decided negative. But soon, finding myself driven into a corner, I was obliged to explain myself point by point. And even the Honorable Pierre Aronnax, Professor in the Museum of Paris, was called upon by the New York Herald to express a definite opinion of some sort. I did something. I spoke for want of power to hold my tongue. I discussed the question in all its forms, politically and scientifically; and I give here an extract from a carefully studied article which I published in the issue of April 30. It ran as follows:

    "After examining one by one the different theories, rejecting all other suggestions, it becomes necessary to admit the existence of a marine animal of enormous power.

    "The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us. Soundings cannot reach them. What passes in those remote depths—what beings live, or can live, twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the waters—what is the organization of these animals, we can scarcely conjecture. However, the solution of the problem submitted to me may modify the form of the dilemma. Either we do know all the varieties of beings which people our planet, or we do not. If we do not know them all—if Nature has still secrets in the deeps for us, nothing is more conformable to reason than to admit the existence of fish, or cetaceans of other kinds, or even of new species, of an organization formed to inhabit the strata inaccessible to soundings, and which an accident of some sort, either fantastical or capricious, has brought at long intervals to the upper level of the ocean.

    "If, on the contrary, we do know all living kinds, we must necessarily seek for the animal in question among those marine beings already classed; and, in that case, I should be disposed to admit the existence of a gigantic narwhal.

    "The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, often attains a length of sixty feet. Increase its size fivefold or tenfold, give it strength proportionate to its size, lengthen its destructive weapons, and you obtain the animal required. It will have the proportions determined by the officers of the Shannon, the instrument required by the perforation of the Scotia, and the power necessary to pierce the hull of the steamer.

    "Indeed, the narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword, a halberd, according to the expression of certain naturalists. The principal tusk has the hardness of steel. Some of these tusks have been found buried in the bodies of whales, which the unicorn always attacks with success. Others have been drawn out, not without trouble, from the bottoms of ships, which they had pierced through and through, as a gimlet pierces a barrel. The Museum of the Faculty of Medicine of Paris possesses one of these defensive weapons, two yards and a quarter in length, and fifteen inches in diameter at the base.

    Very well! Suppose this weapon to be six times stronger and the animal ten times more powerful; launch it at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and you obtain a shock capable of producing the catastrophe required. Until further information, therefore, I shall maintain it to be a sea unicorn of colossal dimensions, armed not with a halberd, but with a real spur, as the armored frigates, or the ‘rams’ of war, whose massiveness and motive power it would possess at the same time. Thus may this puzzling phenomenon be explained, unless there be something over and above all that one has ever conjectured, seen, perceived, or experienced; which is just within the bounds of possibility.

    These last words were cowardly on my part; but, up to a certain point, I wished to shelter my dignity as professor, and not give too much cause for laughter to the Americans, who laugh well when they do laugh. I reserved for myself a way of escape. In effect, however, I admitted the existence of the monster. My article was warmly discussed, which procured it a high reputation. It rallied around it a certain number of partisans. The solution it proposed gave, at least, full liberty to the imagination. The human mind delights in grand conceptions of supernatural beings. And the sea is precisely their best vehicle, the only medium through which these giants (against which terrestrial animals, such as elephants or rhinoceroses, are as nothing) can be produced or developed.

    The industrial and commercial papers treated the question chiefly from this point of view. The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd’s List, the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime and Colonial Review, all papers devoted to insurance companies which threatened to raise their rates of premium, were unanimous on this point. Public opinion had been pronounced. The United States were the first in the field; and in New York they made preparations for an expedition destined to pursue this narwhal. A frigate of great speed, the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission as soon as possible. The arsenals were opened to Commander Farragut, who hastened the arming of his frigate; but, as it always happens, the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster did not appear. For two months no one heard it spoken of. No ship met with it. It seemed as if this unicorn knew of the plots weaving around it. It had been so much talked of, even through the Atlantic cable, that jesters pretended that this slender fly had stopped a telegram on its passage and was making the most of it.

    So when the frigate had been armed for a long campaign, and provided with formidable fishing apparatus, no one could tell what course to pursue. Impatience grew apace, when, on June 2, they learned that a steamer of the line of San Francisco, from California to Shanghai, had seen the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean. The excitement caused by this news was extreme. The ship was revictualed and well stocked with coal.

    Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn pier, I received a letter worded as follows:

    To M. Aronnax, Professor in the Museum of Paris,

    Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York.

    Sir: If you will consent to join the Abraham Lincoln in this expedition, the government of the United States will with pleasure see France represented in the enterprise. Commander Farragut has a cabin at your disposal.

    Very cordially yours,

    J. B. Hobson, Secretary of Marine.

    CHAPTER

    III

    I FORM MY RESOLUTION

    Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson’s letter I no more thought of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the North Sea. Three seconds after reading the letter of the honorable Secretary of Marine, I felt that my true vocation, the sole end of my life, was to chase this disturbing monster and purge it from the world.

    But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary and longing for repose. I aspired to nothing more than again seeing my country, my friends, my little lodging by the Jardin des Plantes, my dear and precious collections—but nothing could keep me back! I forgot all—fatigue, friends and collections—and accepted without hesitation the offer of the American government.

    Besides, thought I, all roads lead back to Europe; and the unicorn may be amiable enough to hurry me toward the coast of France. This worthy animal may allow itself to be caught in the seas of Europe (for my particular benefit), and I will not bring back less than half a yard of his ivory halberd to the Museum of Natural History. But in the meanwhile I must seek this narwhal in the North Pacific Ocean, which, to return to France, was taking the road to the antipodes.

    Conseil, I called in an impatient voice.

    Conseil was my servant, a true, devoted Flemish boy, who had accompanied me in all my travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking well. He was quiet by nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit, evincing little disturbance at the different surprises of life, very quick with his hands, and apt at any service required of him; and, despite his name, never giving advice—even when asked for it.

    Conseil had followed me for the last ten years wherever science led. Never once did he complain of the length or fatigue of a journey, never make an objection to pack his portmanteau for whatever country it might be, or however far away, whether China or Congo. Besides all this, he had good health, which defied all sickness, and solid muscles, but no nerves; good morals are understood. This boy was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master as fifteen to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years old?

    But Conseil had one fault: he was ceremonious to a degree, and would never speak to me but in the third person, which was sometimes provoking.

    Conseil, said I again, beginning with feverish hands to make preparations for my departure.

    Certainly I was sure of this devoted boy. As a rule, I never asked him if it were convenient for him or not to follow me in my travels; but this time the expedition in question might be prolonged, and the enterprise might be hazardous in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate as easily as a nutshell. Here there was matter for reflection even to the most impassive man in the world. What would Conseil say?

    Conseil, I called a third time.

    Conseil appeared.

    Did you call, sir? said he, entering.

    Yes, my boy; make preparations for me and yourself too. We leave in two hours.

    As you please, sir, replied Conseil, quietly.

    Not an instant to lose; lock in my trunk all traveling utensils, coats, shirts, and stockings—without counting, as many as you can, and make haste.

    And your collections, sir? observed Conseil.

    We will think of them by and by.

    What! The archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus, and the other skins?

    They will keep them at the hotel.

    We are not returning to Paris, then? said Conseil.

    Oh! Certainly, I answered, evasively, by making a curve.

    Will the curve please you, sir?

    "Oh! It will be nothing; not quite so direct a road, that is all. We take our passage in the Abraham Lincoln."

    As you think proper, sir, coolly replied Conseil.

    "You see, my friend, it has to do with the monster—the famous narwhal. We are going to purge it from the seas. The author of a work in quarto, in two volumes, on the Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds cannot forbear embarking with Commander Farragut. A glorious mission, but a dangerous one! We cannot tell where we may go; these animals can be very capricious. But we will go whether or no; we have got a captain who is pretty wide-awake."

    I opened a credit account for Babiroussa, and, Conseil following, I jumped into a cab. Our luggage was transported to the deck of the frigate immediately. I hastened on board and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors conducted me to the poop, where I found myself in the presence of a good-looking officer, who held out his hand to me.

    Monsieur Pierre Aronnax? said he.

    Himself, replied I. Commander Farragut?

    You are welcome, Professor; your cabin is ready for you.

    I bowed, and desired to be conducted to the cabin destined for me.

    The Abraham Lincoln had been well chosen and equipped for her new destination. She was a frigate of great speed, fitted with high-pressure engines which admitted a pressure of seven atmospheres. Under this the Abraham Lincoln attained the mean speed of nearly eighteen knots and a third an hour—a considerable speed, but, nevertheless, insufficient to grapple with this gigantic cetacean.

    The interior arrangements of the frigate corresponded to its nautical qualities. I was well satisfied with my cabin, which was in the after part, opening upon the gunroom.

    We shall be well off here, said I to Conseil.

    As well, by your honor’s leave, as a hermit-crab in the shell of a whelk, said Conseil.

    I left Conseil to stow our trunks conveniently away, and remounted the poop in order to survey the preparations for departure.

    At that moment Commander Farragut was ordering the last moorings to be cast loose which held the Abraham Lincoln to the pier of Brooklyn. So in a quarter of an hour, perhaps less, the frigate would have sailed without me. I should have missed this extraordinary, supernatural, and incredible expedition, the recital of which may well meet with some suspicion.

    But Commander Farragut would not lose a day nor an hour in scouring the seas in which the animal had been sighted. He sent for the engineer.

    Is the steam full on? asked he.

    Yes, sir, replied the engineer.

    Go ahead, cried Commander Farragut.

    The quay of Brooklyn, and all that part of New York bordering on the East River, was crowded with spectators. Three cheers burst successively from five hundred thousand throats; thousands of handkerchiefs were waved above the heads of the compact mass, saluting the Abraham Lincoln, until she reached the waters of the Hudson, at the point of that elongated peninsula which forms the town of New York. Then the frigate, following the coast of New Jersey along the right bank of the beautiful river, covered with villas, passed between the forts, which saluted her with their heaviest guns. The Abraham Lincoln answered by hoisting the American colors three times, whose thirty-nine stars shone resplendent from the mizzen-peak; then modifying its speed to take the narrow channel marked by buoys placed in the inner bay formed by Sandy Hook Point, it coasted the long sandy beach, where some thousands of spectators gave it one final cheer. The escort of boats and tenders still followed the frigate, and did not leave her until they came abreast of the light-ship whose two lights marked the entrance of New York Channel.

    Six bells struck, the pilot got into his boat, and rejoined the little schooner which was waiting under our lee, the fires were made up, the screw beat the waves more rapidly, the frigate skirted the low yellow coast of Long Island; and at eight bells, after having lost sight in the northwest of the lights of Fire Island, she ran at full steam on to the dark waters of the Atlantic.

    CHAPTER

    IV

    NED LAND

    Captain Farragut was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he commanded. His vessel and he were one. He was the soul of it. On the question of the monster there was no doubt in his mind, and he would not allow the existence of the animal to be disputed on board. He believed in it, as certain good women believe in the leviathan—by faith, not by reason. The monster did exist, and he had sworn to rid the seas of it. Either Captain Farragut would kill the narwhal, or the narwhal would kill the captain. There was no third course.

    The officers on board shared the opinion of their chief. They were ever chatting, discussing, and calculating the various chances of a meeting, watching narrowly the vast surface of the ocean. More than one took up his quarters voluntarily in the cross-trees, who would have cursed such a berth under any other circumstances. As long as the sun described its daily course, the rigging was crowded with sailors, whose feet were burned to such an extent by the heat of the deck as to render it unbearable; still the Abraham Lincoln had not yet breasted the suspected waters of the Pacific. As to the ship’s company, they desired nothing better than to meet the unicorn, to harpoon it, hoist it on board, and despatch it. They watched the sea with eager attention.

    Besides, Captain Farragut had spoken of a certain sum of two thousand dollars, set apart for whoever should first sight the monster, were he cabin-boy, common seaman, or officer.

    I leave you to judge how eyes were used on board the Abraham Lincoln.

    For my own part I was not behind the others, and, left to no one my share of daily observations. The frigate might have been called the Argus, for a hundred reasons. Only one among us, Conseil, seemed to protest by his indifference against the question which so interested us all, and seemed to be out of keeping with the general enthusiasm on board.

    I have said that Captain Farragut had carefully provided his ship with every apparatus for catching the gigantic cetacean. No whaler had ever been better armed. We possessed every known engine, from the harpoon thrown by the hand to the barbed arrows of the blunderbuss, and the explosive balls of the duck-gun. On the forecastle lay the perfection of a breech-loading gun, very thick at the breech, and very narrow in the bore, the model of which had been in the Exhibition of 1867. This precious weapon of American origin could throw with ease a conical projectile of nine pounds to a mean distance of ten miles.

    Thus the Abraham Lincoln wanted for no means of destruction; and, what was better still she had on board Ned Land, the prince of harpooners.

    Ned Land was a Canadian, with an uncommon quickness of hand, and who knew no equal in his dangerous occupation. Skill, coolness, audacity, and cunning he possessed in a superior degree, and it must be a cunning whale or a singularly cute cachalot to escape the stroke of his harpoon.

    Ned Land was about forty years of age; he was a tall man (more than six feet high), strongly built, grave and taciturn, occasionally violent, and very passionate when contradicted. His person

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