A Hecatomb
:
PART TWO
The way of describing this unlooked-for scene, the history of the
patriot ship, told at first so coldly, and the emotion with which this
strange man pronounced the last words, the name of the Avenger, the
significance of which could not escape me, all impressed itself deeply
on my mind. My eyes did not leave the Captain, who, with his hand
stretched out to sea, was watching with a glowing eye the glorious
wreck. Perh
ps I was never to know who he was, from whence he came, or
where he was going to, but I saw the man move, and apart from the
savant. It was no common misanthropy which had shut Captain Nemo and
his companions within the Nautilus, but a hatred, either monstrous or
sublime, which time could never weaken. Did this hatred still seek for
vengeance? The future would soon teach me that. But the Nautilus was
rising slowly to the surface of the sea, and the form of the Avenger
disappeared by degrees from my sight. Soon a slight rolling told me
that we were in the open air. At that moment a dull boom was heard. I
looked at the Captain. He did not move.
"Captain?" said I.
He did not answer. I left him and mounted the platform. Conseil and
the Canadian were already there.
"Where did that sound come from?" I asked.
"It was a gunshot," replied Ned Land.
I looked in the direction of the vessel I had already seen. It was
nearing the Nautilus, and we could see that it was putting on steam.
It was within six miles of us.
"What is that ship, Ned?"
"By its rigging, and the height of its lower masts," said the Canadian,
"I bet she is a ship-of-war. May it reach us; and, if necessary, sink
this cursed Nautilus."
"Friend Ned," replied Conseil, "what harm can it do to the Nautilus?
Can it attack it beneath the waves? Can its cannonade us at the bottom
of the sea?"
"Tell me, Ned," said I, "can you recognise what country she belongs to?"
The Canadian knitted his eyebrows, dropped his eyelids, and screwed up
the corners of his eyes, and for a few moments fixed a piercing look
upon the vessel.
"No, sir," he replied; "I cannot tell what nation she belongs to, for
she shows no colours. But I can declare she is a man-of-war, for a
long pennant flutters from her main mast."
For a quarter of an hour we watched the ship which was steaming towards
us. I could not, however, believe that she could see the Nautilus from
that distance; and still less that she could know what this submarine
engine was. Soon the Canadian informed me that she was a large,
armoured, two-decker ram. A thick black smoke was pouring from her two
funnels. Her closely-furled sails were stopped to her yards. She
hoisted no flag at her mizzen-peak. The distance prevented us from
distinguishing the colours of her pennant, which floated like a thin
ribbon. She advanced rapidly. If Captain Nemo allowed her to
approach, there was a chance of salvation for us.
"Sir," said Ned Land, "if that vessel passes within a mile of us I
shall throw myself into the sea, and I should advise you to do the
same."
I did not reply to the Canadian's suggestion, but continued watching
the ship. Whether English, French, American, or Russian, she would be
sure to take us in if we could only reach her. Presently a white smoke
burst from the fore part of the vessel; some seconds after, the water,
agitated by the fall of a heavy body, splashed the stern of the
Nautilus, and shortly afterwards a loud explosion struck my ear.
"What! they are firing at us!" I exclaimed.
"So please you, sir," said Ned, "they have recognised the unicorn, and
they are firing at us."
"But," I exclaimed, "surely they can see that there are men in the
case?"
"It is, perhaps, because of that," replied Ned Land, looking at me.
A whole flood of light burst upon my mind. Doubtless they knew now how
to believe the stories of the pretended monster. No doubt, on board
the Abraham Lincoln, when the Canadian struck it with the harpoon,
Commander Farragut had recognised in the supposed narwhal a submarine
vessel, more dangerous than a supernatural cetacean. Yes, it must have
been so; and on every sea they were now seeking this engine of
destruction. Terrible indeed! if, as we supposed, Captain Nemo
employed the Nautilus in works of vengeance. On the night when we were
imprisoned in that cell, in the midst of the Indian Ocean, had he not
attacked some vessel? The man buried in the coral cemetery, had he not
been a victim to the shock caused by the Nautilus? Yes, I repeat it,
it must be so. One part of the mysterious existence of Captain Nemo
had been unveiled; and, if his identity had not been recognised, at
least, the nations united against him were no longer hunting a
chimerical creature, but a man who had vowed a deadly hatred against
them. All the formidable past rose before me. Instead of meeting
friends on board the approaching ship, we could only expect pitiless
enemies. But the shot rattled about us. Some of them struck the sea
and ricochetted, losing themselves in the distance. But none touched
the Nautilus. The vessel was not more than three miles from us. In
spite of the serious cannonade, Captain Nemo did not appear on the
platform; but, if one of the conical projectiles had struck the shell
of the Nautilus, it would have been fatal. The Canadian then said,
"Sir, we must do all we can to get out of this dilemma. Let us signal
them. They will then, perhaps, understand that we are honest folks."
Ned Land took his handkerchief to wave in the air; but he had scarcely
displayed it, when he was struck down by an iron hand, and fell, in
spite of his great strength, upon the deck.
"Fool!" exclaimed the Captain, "do you wish to be pierced by the spur
of the Nautilus before it is hurled at this vessel?"
Captain Nemo was terrible to hear; he was still more terrible to see.
His face was deadly pale, with a spasm at his heart. For an instant it
must have ceased to beat. His pupils were fearfully contracted. He
did not speak, he roared, as, with his body thrown forward, he wrung
the Canadian's shoulders. Then, leaving him, and turning to the ship
of war, whose shot was still raining around him, he exclaimed, with a
powerful voice, "Ah, ship of an accursed nation, you know who I am! I
do not want your colours to know you by! Look! and I will show you
mine!"
And on the fore part of the platform Captain Nemo unfurled a black
flag, similar to the one he had placed at the South Pole. At that
moment a shot struck the shell of the Nautilus obliquely, without
piercing it; and, rebounding near the Captain, was lost in the sea. He
shrugged his shoulders; and, addressing me, said shortly, "Go down, you
and your companions, go down!"
"Sir," I cried, "are you going to attack this vessel?"
"Sir, I am going to sink it."
"You will not do that?"
"I shall do it," he replied coldly. "And I advise you not to judge me,
sir. Fate has shown you what you ought not to have seen. The attack
has begun; go down."
"What is this vessel?"
"You do not know? Very well! so much the better! Its nationality to
you, at least, will be a secret. Go down!"
We could but obey. About fifteen of the sailors surrounded the
Captain, looking with implacable hatred at the vessel nearing them.
One could feel that the same desire of vengeance animated every soul.
I went down at the moment another projectile struck the Nautilus, and I
heard the Captain exclaim:
"Strike, mad vessel! Shower your useless shot! And then, you will not
escape the spur of the Nautilus. But it is not here that you shall
perish! I would not have your ruins mingle with those of the Avenger!"
I reached my room. The Captain and his second had remained on the
platform. The screw was set in motion, and the Nautilus, moving with
speed, was soon beyond the reach of the ship's guns. But the pursuit
continued, and Captain Nemo contented himself with keeping his distance.
About four in the afternoon, being no longer able to contain my
impatience, I went to the central staircase. The panel was open, and I
ventured on to the platform. The Captain was still walking up and down
with an agitated step. He was looking at the ship, which was five or
six miles to leeward.
He was going round it like a wild beast, and, drawing it eastward, he
allowed them to pursue. But he did not attack. Perhaps he still
hesitated? I wished to mediate once more. But I had scarcely spoken,
when Captain Nemo imposed silence, saying:
"I am the law, and I am the judge! I am the oppressed, and there is
the oppressor! Through him I have lost all that I loved, cherished,
and venerated--country, wife, children, father, and mother. I saw all
perish! All that I hate is there! Say no more!"
I cast a last look at the man-of-war, which was putting on steam, and
rejoined Ned and Conseil.
"We will fly!" I exclaimed.
"Good!" said Ned. "What is this vessel?"
"I do not know; but, whatever it is, it will be sunk before night. In
any case, it is better to perish with it, than be made accomplices in a
retaliation the justice of which we cannot judge."
"That is my opinion too," said Ned Land, coolly. "Let us wait for
night."
Night arrived. Deep silence reigned on board. The compass showed that
the Nautilus had not altered its course. It was on the surface,
rolling slightly. My companions and I resolved to fly when the vessel
should be near enough either to hear us or to see us; for the moon,
which would be full in two or three days, shone brightly. Once on
board the ship, if we could not prevent the blow which threatened it,
we could, at least we would, do all that circumstances would allow.
Several times I thought the Nautilus was preparing for attack; but
Captain Nemo contented himself with allowing his adversary to approach,
and then fled once more before it.
Part of the night passed without any incident. We watched the
opportunity for action. We spoke little, for we were too much moved.
Ned Land would have thrown himself into the sea, but I forced him to
wait. According to my idea, the Nautilus would attack the ship at her
waterline, and then it would not only be possible, but easy to fly.
At three in the morning, full of uneasiness, I mounted the platform.
Captain Nemo had not left it. He was standing at the fore part near
his flag, which a slight breeze displayed above his head. He did not
take his eyes from the vessel. The intensity of his look seemed to
attract, and fascinate, and draw it onward more surely than if he had
been towing it. The moon was then passing the meridian. Jupiter was
rising in the east. Amid this peaceful scene of nature, sky and ocean
rivalled each other in tranquillity, the sea offering to the orbs of
night the finest mirror they could ever have in which to reflect their
image. As I thought of the deep calm of these elements, compared with
all those passions brooding imperceptibly within the Nautilus, I
shuddered.
The vessel was within two miles of us. It was ever nearing that
phosphorescent light which showed the presence of the Nautilus. I
could see its green and red lights, and its white lantern hanging from
the large foremast. An indistinct vibration quivered through its
rigging, showing that the furnaces were heated to the uttermost.
Sheaves of sparks and red ashes flew from the funnels, shining in the
atmosphere like stars.
I remained thus until six in the morning, without Captain Nemo noticing
me. The ship stood about a mile and a half from us, and with the first
dawn of day the firing began afresh. The moment could not be far off
when, the Nautilus attacking its adversary, my companions and myself
should for ever leave this man. I was preparing to go down to remind
them, when the second mounted the platform, accompanied by several
sailors. Captain Nemo either did not or would not see them. Some
steps were taken which might be called the signal for action. They
were very simple. The iron balustrade around the platform was lowered,
and the lantern and pilot cages were pushed within the shell until they
were flush with the deck. The long surface of the steel cigar no
longer offered a single point to check its manoeuvres. I returned to
the saloon. The Nautilus still floated; some streaks of light were
filtering through the liquid beds. With the undulations of the waves
the windows were brightened by the red streaks of the rising sun, and
this dreadful day of the 2nd of June had dawned.
At five o'clock, the log showed that the speed of the Nautilus was
slackening, and I knew that it was allowing them to draw nearer.
Besides, the reports were heard more distinctly, and the projectiles,
labouring through the ambient water, were extinguished with a strange
hissing noise.
"My friends," said I, "the moment is come. One grasp of the hand, and
may God protect us!"
Ned Land was resolute, Conseil calm, myself so nervous that I knew not
how to contain myself. We all passed into the library; but the moment
I pushed the door opening on to the central staircase, I heard the
upper panel close sharply. The Canadian rushed on to the stairs, but I
stopped him. A well-known hissing noise told me that the water was
running into the reservoirs, and in a few minutes the Nautilus was some
yards beneath the surface of the waves. I understood the manoeuvre.
It was too late to act. The Nautilus did not wish to strike at the
impenetrable cuirass, but below the water-line, where the metallic
covering no longer protected it.
We were again imprisoned, unwilling witnesses of the dreadful drama
that was preparing. We had scarcely time to reflect; taking refuge in
my room, we looked at each other without speaking. A deep stupor had
taken hold of my mind: thought seemed to stand still. I was in that
painful state of expectation preceding a dreadful report. I waited, I
listened, every sense was merged in that of hearing! The speed of the
Nautilus was accelerated. It was preparing to rush. The whole ship
trembled. Suddenly I screamed. I felt the shock, but comparatively
light. I felt the penetrating power of the steel spur. I heard
rattlings and scrapings. But the Nautilus, carried along by its
propelling power, passed through the mass of the vessel like a needle
through sailcloth!
I could stand it no longer. Mad, out of my mind, I rushed from my room
into the saloon. Captain Nemo was there, mute, gloomy, implacable; he
was looking through the port panel. A large mass cast a shadow on the
water; and, that it might lose nothing of her agony, the Nautilus was
going down into the abyss with her. Ten yards from me I saw the open
shell, through which the water was rushing with the noise of thunder,
then the double line of guns and the netting. The bridge was covered
with black, agitated shadows.
The water was rising. The poor creatures were crowding the ratlines,
clinging to the masts, struggling under the water. It was a human
ant-heap overtaken by the sea. Paralysed, stiffened with anguish, my
hair standing on end, with eyes wide open, panting, without breath, and
without voice, I too was watching! An irresistible attraction glued me
to the glass! Suddenly an explosion took place. The compressed air
blew up her decks, as if the magazines had caught fire. Then the
unfortunate vessel sank more rapidly. Her topmast, laden with victims,
now appeared; then her spars, bending under the weight of men; and,
last of all, the top of her mainmast. Then the dark mass disappeared,
and with it the dead crew, drawn down by the strong eddy.
I turned to Captain Nemo. That terrible avenger, a perfect archangel
of hatred, was still looking. When all was over, he turned to his
room, opened the door, and entered. I followed him with my eyes. On
the end wall beneath his heroes, I saw the portrait of a woman, still
young, and two little children. Captain Nemo looked at them for some
moments, stretched his arms towards them, and, kneeling down, burst
into deep sobs.