Cachalots And Whales
:
PART TWO
During the nights of the 13th and 14th of March, the Nautilus returned
to its southerly course. I fancied that, when on a level with Cape
Horn, he would turn the helm westward, in order to beat the Pacific
seas, and so complete the tour of the world. He did nothing of the
kind, but continued on his way to the southern regions. Where was he
going to? To the pole? It was madness! I began to think that the
Captain's
temerity justified Ned Land's fears. For some time past the
Canadian had not spoken to me of his projects of flight; he was less
communicative, almost silent. I could see that this lengthened
imprisonment was weighing upon him, and I felt that rage was burning
within him. When he met the Captain, his eyes lit up with suppressed
anger; and I feared that his natural violence would lead him into some
extreme. That day, the 14th of March, Conseil and he came to me in my
room. I inquired the cause of their visit.
"A simple question to ask you, sir," replied the Canadian.
"Speak, Ned."
"How many men are there on board the Nautilus, do you think?"
"I cannot tell, my friend."
"I should say that its working does not require a large crew."
"Certainly, under existing conditions, ten men, at the most, ought to
be enough."
"Well, why should there be any more?"
"Why?" I replied, looking fixedly at Ned Land, whose meaning was easy
to guess. "Because," I added, "if my surmises are correct, and if I
have well understood the Captain's existence, the Nautilus is not only
a vessel: it is also a place of refuge for those who, like its
commander, have broken every tie upon earth."
"Perhaps so," said Conseil; "but, in any case, the Nautilus can only
contain a certain number of men. Could not you, sir, estimate their
maximum?"
"How, Conseil?"
"By calculation; given the size of the vessel, which you know, sir, and
consequently the quantity of air it contains, knowing also how much
each man expends at a breath, and comparing these results with the fact
that the Nautilus is obliged to go to the surface every twenty-four
hours."
Conseil had not finished the sentence before I saw what he was driving
at.
"I understand," said I; "but that calculation, though simple enough,
can give but a very uncertain result."
"Never mind," said Ned Land urgently.
"Here it is, then," said I. "In one hour each man consumes the oxygen
contained in twenty gallons of air; and in twenty-four, that contained
in 480 gallons. We must, therefore find how many times 480 gallons of
air the Nautilus contains."
"Just so," said Conseil.
"Or," I continued, "the size of the Nautilus being 1,500 tons; and one
ton holding 200 gallons, it contains 300,000 gallons of air, which,
divided by 480, gives a quotient of 625. Which means to say, strictly
speaking, that the air contained in the Nautilus would suffice for 625
men for twenty-four hours."
"Six hundred and twenty-five!" repeated Ned.
"But remember that all of us, passengers, sailors, and officers
included, would not form a tenth part of that number."
"Still too many for three men," murmured Conseil.
The Canadian shook his head, passed his hand across his forehead, and
left the room without answering.
"Will you allow me to make one observation, sir?" said Conseil. "Poor
Ned is longing for everything that he can not have. His past life is
always present to him; everything that we are forbidden he regrets.
His head is full of old recollections. And we must understand him.
What has he to do here? Nothing; he is not learned like you, sir; and
has not the same taste for the beauties of the sea that we have. He
would risk everything to be able to go once more into a tavern in his
own country."
Certainly the monotony on board must seem intolerable to the Canadian,
accustomed as he was to a life of liberty and activity. Events were
rare which could rouse him to any show of spirit; but that day an event
did happen which recalled the bright days of the harpooner. About
eleven in the morning, being on the surface of the ocean, the Nautilus
fell in with a troop of whales--an encounter which did not astonish me,
knowing that these creatures, hunted to death, had taken refuge in high
latitudes.
We were seated on the platform, with a quiet sea. The month of October
in those latitudes gave us some lovely autumnal days. It was the
Canadian--he could not be mistaken--who signalled a whale on the
eastern horizon. Looking attentively, one might see its black back
rise and fall with the waves five miles from the Nautilus.
"Ah!" exclaimed Ned Land, "if I was on board a whaler, now such a
meeting would give me pleasure. It is one of large size. See with
what strength its blow-holes throw up columns of air an steam!
Confound it, why am I bound to these steel plates?"
"What, Ned," said I, "you have not forgotten your old ideas of fishing?"
"Can a whale-fisher ever forget his old trade, sir? Can he ever tire
of the emotions caused by such a chase?"
"You have never fished in these seas, Ned?"
"Never, sir; in the northern only, and as much in Behring as in Davis
Straits."
"Then the southern whale is still unknown to you. It is the Greenland
whale you have hunted up to this time, and that would not risk passing
through the warm waters of the equator. Whales are localised,
according to their kinds, in certain seas which they never leave. And
if one of these creatures went from Behring to Davis Straits, it must
be simply because there is a passage from one sea to the other, either
on the American or the Asiatic side."
"In that case, as I have never fished in these seas, I do not know the
kind of whale frequenting them!"
"I have told you, Ned."
"A greater reason for making their acquaintance," said Conseil.
"Look! look!" exclaimed the Canadian, "they approach: they aggravate
me; they know that I cannot get at them!"
Ned stamped his feet. His hand trembled, as he grasped an imaginary
harpoon.
"Are these cetaceans as large as those of the northern seas?" asked he.
"Very nearly, Ned."
"Because I have seen large whales, sir, whales measuring a hundred
feet. I have even been told that those of Hullamoch and Umgallick, of
the Aleutian Islands, are sometimes a hundred and fifty feet long."
"That seems to me exaggeration. These creatures are only
balaeaopterons, provided with dorsal fins; and, like the cachalots, are
generally much smaller than the Greenland whale."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Canadian, whose eyes had never left the ocean,
"they are coming nearer; they are in the same water as the Nautilus."
Then, returning to the conversation, he said:
"You spoke of the cachalot as a small creature. I have heard of
gigantic ones. They are intelligent cetacea. It is said of some that
they cover themselves with seaweed and fucus, and then are taken for
islands. People encamp upon them, and settle there; lights a fire----"
"And build houses," said Conseil.
"Yes, joker," said Ned Land. "And one fine day the creature plunges,
carrying with it all the inhabitants to the bottom of the sea."
"Something like the travels of Sinbad the Sailor," I replied, laughing.
"Ah!" suddenly exclaimed Ned Land, "it is not one whale; there are
ten--there are twenty--it is a whole troop! And I not able to do
anything! hands and feet tied!"
"But, friend Ned," said Conseil, "why do you not ask Captain Nemo's
permission to chase them?"
Conseil had not finished his sentence when Ned Land had lowered himself
through the panel to seek the Captain. A few minutes afterwards the
two appeared together on the platform.
Captain Nemo watched the troop of cetacea playing on the waters about a
mile from the Nautilus.
"They are southern whales," said he; "there goes the fortune of a whole
fleet of whalers."
"Well, sir," asked the Canadian, "can I not chase them, if only to
remind me of my old trade of harpooner?"
"And to what purpose?" replied Captain Nemo; "only to destroy! We have
nothing to do with the whale-oil on board."
"But, sir," continued the Canadian, "in the Red Sea you allowed us to
follow the dugong."
"Then it was to procure fresh meat for my crew. Here it would be
killing for killing's sake. I know that is a privilege reserved for
man, but I do not approve of such murderous pastime. In destroying the
southern whale (like the Greenland whale, an inoffensive creature),
your traders do a culpable action, Master Land. They have already
depopulated the whole of Baffin's Bay, and are annihilating a class of
useful animals. Leave the unfortunate cetacea alone. They have plenty
of natural enemies--cachalots, swordfish, and sawfish--without you
troubling them."
The Captain was right. The barbarous and inconsiderate greed of these
fishermen will one day cause the disappearance of the last whale in the
ocean. Ned Land whistled "Yankee-doodle" between his teeth, thrust his
hands into his pockets, and turned his back upon us. But Captain Nemo
watched the troop of cetacea, and, addressing me, said:
"I was right in saying that whales had natural enemies enough, without
counting man. These will have plenty to do before long. Do you see,
M. Aronnax, about eight miles to leeward, those blackish moving points?"
"Yes, Captain," I replied.
"Those are cachalots--terrible animals, which I have met in troops of
two or three hundred. As to those, they are cruel, mischievous
creatures; they would be right in exterminating them."
The Canadian turned quickly at the last words.
"Well, Captain," said he, "it is still time, in the interest of the
whales."
"It is useless to expose one's self, Professor. The Nautilus will
disperse them. It is armed with a steel spur as good as Master Land's
harpoon, I imagine."
The Canadian did not put himself out enough to shrug his shoulders.
Attack cetacea with blows of a spur! Who had ever heard of such a
thing?
"Wait, M. Aronnax," said Captain Nemo. "We will show you something you
have never yet seen. We have no pity for these ferocious creatures.
They are nothing but mouth and teeth."
Mouth and teeth! No one could better describe the macrocephalous
cachalot, which is sometimes more than seventy-five feet long. Its
enormous head occupies one-third of its entire body. Better armed than
the whale, whose upper jaw is furnished only with whalebone, it is
supplied with twenty-five large tusks, about eight inches long,
cylindrical and conical at the top, each weighing two pounds. It is in
the upper part of this enormous head, in great cavities divided by
cartilages, that is to be found from six to eight hundred pounds of
that precious oil called spermaceti. The cachalot is a disagreeable
creature, more tadpole than fish, according to Fredol's description.
It is badly formed, the whole of its left side being (if we may say
it), a "failure," and being only able to see with its right eye. But
the formidable troop was nearing us. They had seen the whales and were
preparing to attack them. One could judge beforehand that the
cachalots would be victorious, not only because they were better built
for attack than their inoffensive adversaries, but also because they
could remain longer under water without coming to the surface. There
was only just time to go to the help of the whales. The Nautilus went
under water. Conseil, Ned Land, and I took our places before the
window in the saloon, and Captain Nemo joined the pilot in his cage to
work his apparatus as an engine of destruction. Soon I felt the
beatings of the screw quicken, and our speed increased. The battle
between the cachalots and the whales had already begun when the
Nautilus arrived. They did not at first show any fear at the sight of
this new monster joining in the conflict. But they soon had to guard
against its blows. What a battle! The Nautilus was nothing but a
formidable harpoon, brandished by the hand of its Captain. It hurled
itself against the fleshy mass, passing through from one part to the
other, leaving behind it two quivering halves of the animal. It could
not feel the formidable blows from their tails upon its sides, nor the
shock which it produced itself, much more. One cachalot killed, it ran
at the next, tacked on the spot that it might not miss its prey, going
forwards and backwards, answering to its helm, plunging when the
cetacean dived into the deep waters, coming up with it when it returned
to the surface, striking it front or sideways, cutting or tearing in
all directions and at any pace, piercing it with its terrible spur.
What carnage! What a noise on the surface of the waves! What sharp
hissing, and what snorting peculiar to these enraged animals! In the
midst of these waters, generally so peaceful, their tails made perfect
billows. For one hour this wholesale massacre continued, from which
the cachalots could not escape. Several times ten or twelve united
tried to crush the Nautilus by their weight. From the window we could
see their enormous mouths, studded with tusks, and their formidable
eyes. Ned Land could not contain himself; he threatened and swore at
them. We could feel them clinging to our vessel like dogs worrying a
wild boar in a copse. But the Nautilus, working its screw, carried
them here and there, or to the upper levels of the ocean, without
caring for their enormous weight, nor the powerful strain on the
vessel. At length the mass of cachalots broke up, the waves became
quiet, and I felt that we were rising to the surface. The panel
opened, and we hurried on to the platform. The sea was covered with
mutilated bodies. A formidable explosion could not have divided and
torn this fleshy mass with more violence. We were floating amid
gigantic bodies, bluish on the back and white underneath, covered with
enormous protuberances. Some terrified cachalots were flying towards
the horizon. The waves were dyed red for several miles, and the
Nautilus floated in a sea of blood: Captain Nemo joined us.
"Well, Master Land?" said he.
"Well, sir," replied the Canadian, whose enthusiasm had somewhat
calmed; "it is a terrible spectacle, certainly. But I am not a
butcher. I am a hunter, and I call this a butchery."
"It is a massacre of mischievous creatures," replied the Captain; "and
the Nautilus is not a butcher's knife."
"I like my harpoon better," said the Canadian.
"Every one to his own," answered the Captain, looking fixedly at Ned
Land.
I feared he would commit some act of violence, which would end in sad
consequences. But his anger was turned by the sight of a whale which
the Nautilus had just come up with. The creature had not quite escaped
from the cachalot's teeth. I recognised the southern whale by its flat
head, which is entirely black. Anatomically, it is distinguished from
the white whale and the North Cape whale by the seven cervical
vertebrae, and it has two more ribs than its congeners. The
unfortunate cetacean was lying on its side, riddled with holes from the
bites, and quite dead. From its mutilated fin still hung a young whale
which it could not save from the massacre. Its open mouth let the
water flow in and out, murmuring like the waves breaking on the shore.
Captain Nemo steered close to the corpse of the creature. Two of his
men mounted its side, and I saw, not without surprise, that they were
drawing from its breasts all the milk which they contained, that is to
say, about two or three tons. The Captain offered me a cup of the
milk, which was still warm. I could not help showing my repugnance to
the drink; but he assured me that it was excellent, and not to be
distinguished from cow's milk. I tasted it, and was of his opinion.
It was a useful reserve to us, for in the shape of salt butter or
cheese it would form an agreeable variety from our ordinary food. From
that day I noticed with uneasiness that Ned Land's ill-will towards
Captain Nemo increased, and I resolved to watch the Canadian's gestures
closely.