CHAPTER V
ON AN ADVENTURE!
The voyage of the Abraham Lincoln was for a long time marked by no special incident. But one circumstance happened which showed the wonderful dexterity of Ned Land, and proved what confidence we might place in him.
The 30th of June, the frigate hailed some American whalers near the Falkland Islands, from whom we learned that they knew nothing about the narwhal. But one of them, the captain of the Monroe, knowing that Ned Land had shipped on board the Abraham Lincoln, begged for his help in chasing a whale they had in sight. Commander Farragut, desirous of seeing Ned Land at work, gave him permission to go on board the Monroe. And fate served our Canadian so well that, instead of one whale, he harpooned two in succession, striking one straight to the heart and catching the other after only a few minutes’ pursuit.
Decidedly, if the monster ever has to deal with Ned Land’s harpoon, I would not bet in its favor.
The frigate skirted the southeast coast of America with great rapidity. The 3rd of July we were at the opening of the Straits of Magellan, off Cape Vierges. But Commander Farragut would not take such a tortuous passage, and doubled Cape Horn, instead.
The ship’s crew agreed with him. And certainly it was not likely that they might meet the narwhal in that narrow channel. Many of the sailors affirmed that the monster could not pass there, “that he was too big for that!”
The 6th of July, about three o’clock in the afternoon, the Abraham Lincoln, fifteen miles further to the south, doubled the solitary island, this lost rock at the extremity of the American continent, to which some Dutch sailors gave the name of their native town, Cape Horn. The course was taken towards the northwest, and the next day the screw of the frigate was at last beating the waters of the Pacific.
“Keep your eyes open! Keep your eyes open!” called out the sailors of the
Abraham Lincoln,
And they were opened widely. Both eyes and telescopes, a little dazzled, it is true, by the prospect of two thousand dollars, had not an instant’s repose.
Day and night they watched the surface of the ocean, and even nyctalopes, whose faculty of seeing in the darkness multiplies their chances a hundredfold, would have had enough to do to gain the prize.
I myself, for whom money had no charms, was not the least attentive on board. Giving but few minutes to my meals, but a few hours to sleep, indifferent to either rain or sunshine, I did not leave the poop of the vessel. Now leaning on the netting of the forecastle, now on the taffrail, I devoured with eagerness the soft foam which whitened the sea as far as the eye could reach; and how often have I shared the emotion of the majority of the crew, when some capricious whale raised its black back above the waves! The poop of the vessel was crowded in a moment. The cabins poured forth a torrent of sailors and officers, each with heaving breast and troubled eye watching the course of the cetacean. I looked, and looked, till I was nearly blind, while Conseil, always phlegmatic, kept repeating in a calm voice:
“If monsieur would not squint so much he would see better!”
But vain excitement! The Abraham Lincoln changed its course and made for the animal sighted, a simple whale, or common cachalot, which soon disappeared amidst a storm of curses.
But the weather was good. The voyage was being accomplished under the most favorable auspices. It was then the bad season in the Southern Hemisphere, the July of that zone corresponding to our January in Europe; but the sea was beautiful and easily scanned round a vast circumference.
Ned Land always showed the most tenacious incredulity; he even affected not to examine the seas except during his watch, unless a whale was in sight; and yet his marvclous power of vision might have been of great service. But eight hours out of the twelve the obstinate Canadian read or slept in his cabin.
“Bah!” he would answer; “there is nothing. Monsieur Aronnax; and even if there is an animal, what chance have we of seeing it? Are we not going about at random? 1 will admit that the beast has been seen again in the North Pacific, but two months have already gone by since that meeting, and according to the temperament of your narwhal it does not like to stop long in place. It is endowed with a prodigious faculty of moving about. Now, you know as well as I do, Professor, that Nature makes nothing inconsistent, and would not give a slow animal the faculty of moving rapidly if it did not want to use it. Therefore, if the beast exists, it is far enough off now.”
I did not know what to answer to that. We were evidently going along blindly. But how were we to do otherwise? Our chances, too, were very limited. In the meantime no one yet doubted our eventual success, and there was not a sailor on board who would have bet against the narwhal and against its early apparition.
And nothing! Nothing was seen but the immense waste of waters— nothing that resembled a gigantic narwhal, nor a submarine islet, nor a wreck, nor a floating reef, nor anything at all supernatural!
The reaction, therefore, began. Discouragement at first took possession of all minds, and opened a breach for incredulity. A new sentiment was experienced on board, composed of three tenths of shame and seven tenths of rage. They called themselves fools for being taken in by a chimera, and were still more furious at it. The mountains of arguments piled up for a year fell down all at once, and all everyone thought of was to make up the hours of meals and sleep which they had so foolishly sacrificed.
With the mobility natural to the human mind, they threw themselves from one excess into another. The warmest partisans of the enterprise became finally its most ardent detractors.
On the 20th of July, the tropic of Capricorn was crossed at 105° longitude, and on the 27th of the same month we crossed the equator at the 110th meridian.This passed, the frigate took a more decided westerly direction, and scoured the central waters of the Pacific. Commander Farragut thought, and with reason, that it was better to remain in deep water, and keep clear of continents or islands, which the beast itself seemed to shun. “Perhaps because there was not enough water for him!” suggested the greater part of the crew. The frigate steamed past the Tuamotu Islands, the Marquesas, and the Sandwich Islands, crossed the tropic of Cancer at 132°, and made for the seas of China.1
We were in the theat of the last appearances of the monster! And, to say truth, we no longer lived normally on board. Hearts palpitated, fearfully preparing themselves for future incurable aneurisms. The entire ship’s crew were undergoing a nervous excitement, of which I can give no idea: they could not eat, they could not sleep. Twenty times a day, a misconception or an optical illusion of some sailor seated on the taffrail, would cause dreadful perspirations, and these emotions, twenty times repeated, kept us in a state of excitement so violent that a reaction was unavoidable.
And truly, reaction was not slow in showing itself. For three months, three months during which each day seemed an age, the Abraham Lincoln furrowed all the waters of the Northern Pacific, running at whales, making sharp deviations from her course, veering suddenly from one tack to another, stopping suddenly, putting on steam, and backing ever and anon at the risk of deranging her machinery; and not one point between the Japanese or American coasts was left unexplored.
Reaction mounted from the crew to the captain himself, and certainly, had it not been for resolute determination on the part of Captain Farragut, the frigate would have headed due southward.
This useless search could not last much longer. The Abraham Lincoln had nothing to reproach herself with, she had done her best to succeed. Never had an American ship’s crew shown more zeal or patience; its failure could not be held against them—there remained nothing but to return.
This was made clear to the commander. Captain Farragut held his ground. The sailors could not hide their discontent, and their work suffered. I will not say there was a mutiny on board, but after a reasonable period of obstinacy, Captain Farragut (as Columbus did) asked for three days’ patience. If in three days the monster did not appear, the man at the helm should give three turns of the wheel, and the Abraham Lincoln would make for the European seas.
This promise was made on the 2nd of November. It had the effect of rallying the ship’s crew. The ocean was watched with renewed attention. Each one wished for a last glance in which to sum up his remembrance. Telescopes were used with feverish activity. It was a grand defiance given to the giant narwhal, and he could scarcely fail to answer the summons “Appear!”
Two days passed. The Abraham Lincoln’s steam was at half pressure. A thousand schemes were tried to attract the attention and stimulate the apathy of the animal in case it should be met in those parts. Large quantities of bacon were trailed in the wake of the ship, to the great satisfaction (I must say) of the sharks. Small craft radiated in all directions round the Abraham Lincoln as she lay to, and did not leave a spot of the sea unexplored. But the night of the 4th of November arrived without the unveiling of this submarine mystery.
The next day, the 5th of November, at noon, the delay would expire as promised. After that time, Commander Farragut, faithful to his word was to turn the course to the southeast and abandon forever the northern regions of the Pacific.
The frigate was then in 31° 15' north latitude and 136° 42' east longitude. The coast of Japan still remained less than two hundred miles to leeward. Night was approaching. They had just struck eight bells. Large clouds veiled the disk of the moon, then in its first quarter. The sea undulated peaceably under the bow of the vessel.
At that moment I was leaning forward on the starboard netting. Conseil, standing near me, was looking straight before him. The crew, perched in the ratlines, examined the horizon, which contracted and darkened little by little. Officers with their night glasses scoured the growing darkness. Sometimes the ocean sparkled under the rays of the moon, which darted between two clouds. Then all trace of light was lost in the darkness.
In observing Conseil, I could see that the brave lad was undergoing a little of the general influence. At least I thought so. Perhaps for the first time his nerves vibrated to a sentiment of curiosity.
“Come, Conseil,” said I, “this is the last chance of pocketing the two thousand dollars.”
“May monsieur permit me to say,” replied Conseil, “that I never reckoned on getting the prize; and, had the government of the Union offered a hundred thousand dollars, it would have been none the poorer.”
“You are right, Conseil. It is a foolish affair after all, and one upon which we entered too lightly. What time lost, what useless emotions! We should have been back in France six months ago.”
“In monsieur’s apartment,” replied Conseil, “and in his museum; and I should have already classified all of monsieur’s fossils! And the babiroussa would have been installed in its cage in the Jardin des Plantes, and have attracted all the curious people of the capital!”
“As you say, Conseil. I fancy we shall run a fair chance of being laughed at for our pains.”
“That’s tolerably certain,” replied Conseil, quietly. “I think they will make fun of monsieur. And, must I say it!”
“Go on, my good friend.”
“Well, monsieur will only get what he deserves.”
“Indeed!”
“When one has the honor of being a savant as monsieur is, one should not expose one’s self to...”
Conseil had not time to finish his compliment. In the midst of general silence a voice had just been heard. It was the voice of Ned Land shouting—
“Ahoy! it’s the thing we’re looking for, to leeward, a ship’slength away!”
1. Aronnax measures longitude from the meridian of Paris, which is 2° east of the meridian of Greenwich, which is the zero meridian we use today. The maps included with this book use Aronnax’s figures. R.M.