Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea (With Original Illustrations): A Thrilling Saga of Wondrous Adventure, Mystery and Suspense in the wild depths of the Pacific Ocean
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Jules Verne (1828-1905) was a French novelist, poet, and playwright best known for his adventure novels and his profound influence on the literary genre of science fiction.
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.
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Reviews for Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea (With Original Illustrations)
3,031 ratings81 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I read the abridged version with my 6-year-old son. What a great adventure--we both enjoyed it.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A crazy man guiding the ship who has given up on mankind and who refuses to stand on dry land. A coral cemetery. Passing through the Suez. Atlantis. An iceberg. The South Pole. Ice that almost traps the ship. A battle with poulps. A terrible storm. A ship with all her crew sunk. A maelstrom. These are just some of the adventures you will experience when you read this zany book. At times, you will feel like you are reading from an encyclopedia of the time and at times you may wonder whether Jules Verne just made up random creatures and random facts about the underwater world. But I think, in the end, you will be glad you made this voyage.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I'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.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5An unexplained sea monster is sighted by a few nations; it even damages an ocean liner. So, an expedition sets forth to find the beast.Early on, it is suggested that the monster is, in fact, a giant narwhal. A joke, perhaps.Eventually, the expedition finds the monster, and they attack it. The three protagonists, who will be dealt with in a second, fall overboard. They soon find that the monster is not a monster, but a submarine. The protagonists are apprehended and brought aboard the submarine. And thus starts their journey, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea.The captain of the Nautilus (the submarine) is a man by the name of Nemo. Now, here is an interest, and perhaps another joke.Nemo actually means ‘no-man’ or ‘no-body.’ And this turns out to be a great description of the captain. So, interestingly enough, this is a Verne joke. Nemo received his name because he is utterly bereft of character. He’s a nobody; a Nemo; a joke.They thought it was a giant narwhal, but it was, in fact, a nobody. That had to be discouraging, fighting a nobody.I have never read about a more characterless character in all my life! But wait! That’s not true. The other characters in this novel rival Nemo!Nemo’s whole crew is very enigmatic, strange, and bland. They are a great mystery; they are hardly seen throughout the book, which is good. More characterless characters would be too much; they’d end up sinking the sub from lack of brains and muscular coordination!Now we move on to the three protagonists. I beg your pardon if you find only subtle differences between them, but it’s really not my fault. Their names are the most unique things they own.The first is a French marine biologist. His name is Professor Pierre Aronnax. And that’s the most interesting thing about him.Next is the biologist’s helper, Conseil. Here is a portion about him:…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?This tells a little more about the Conseil and Verne.Conseil had good health but no nerves. Maybe this was supposed to be a joke as well. Humans have a lot of nerves. In fact, to be in good health one would need nerves. Of course, Verne might be referring to the fact that Conseil can’t handle too much action or excitement. If that’s the case, we must take his word for it since we see no evidence of that fact throughout the novel.What we learn about Verne is that he has trouble telling the reader the ages of his characterless characters.The third protagonist is Ned Land, master harpoonist, or, as he is frequently called throughout the book, seemingly in a derisive manner, the Canadian. This is what the biologist has to say about the Canadian:Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory.Maybe a joke. Or, maybe characterless characters like dwelling on other characterless characters. In any case, I can’t see what there would be to dwell on for a second let alone a hundred years.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Fascinating! A wonderful insight into the glories of marine life, and a comprehensive guide to world geography as well as a compelling story. Gratifyingly, it also leaves so many questions unanswered.Of course, everyone is broadly familiar with the story of Captain Nemo and his extraordinary submarine, but the detail that Verne offers is beguiling.The story is recounted by Professor Arronax, a leading marine biologist of the 1860s who had been approached by the US Navy to join their expedition to investigate a spate of sightings of a mysterious body at different sites all around the world. Most of Verne's central characters have an unswervingly loyal manservant and Arronax is no exception - wherever he goes, so goes Conseil.After a long voyage the navy boat does eventually encounter the strange form that has been causing such unrest around the maritime world. A cannon is discharged but the shell merely bounces off its target. In the ensuing melee Professor Arronax and Conseil are swept overboard and find themselves rescued initially by Ned Land, the legendary Canadian harpoonist. However, as they drift on the surface they gradually lose their strength and are on the verge of succumbing to a watery grave when the Nautilus surfaces, and they are gathered in by the crew of Captain Nemo.They are treated for the effects of their ordeal and then taken on a voyage all around the globe. Verne gives the most enticing descriptions of the wonders of the world beneath the waves, and the limitless beauty and undreamt splendour to be encountereed there. Nemo is fours us but distant, and rules his ship with unquestioned ardour, being rewarding with absolute and unquestioning loyalty from his crew, all of whom have turned their backs on life ashore.Arronax comes to respect Nemo but is left astounded by the harshness of many of his views, and with no insight at all into what has driven him to this self-imposed, underwater exile. Once the initial sense of relief at having been rescued, and the ensuing wonder at everything they can see, fades, the thoughts of the three captives turn to escape.I can't imagine how exciting this must have seemed when it was first published - even now it is instantly and comprehensively captivating.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I 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!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This one me a while but that's more down to me than the book. It certainly was a slow read and nothing like any movie version I've seen. One might say that not much happens and its not really very 'SF' but on the whole I quite enjoyed the ride!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5In 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Jules Verne's 1869 adventure story, a strange creature has appeared in the world's oceans. It looks like a whale, but it is much larger and faster than any whale yet known to science. When international hysteria over the mysterious creature reaches its height, the U.S. sends a warship out to find and destroy it. Professor Pierre Aronnax, a famous French naturalist, is invited to come along and observe. Also on board are Conseil, Aronnax's faithful manservant and classification expert, and Ned Land, an expert harpooner. When they finally do meet the creature, they are astonished to learn that it is not a creature of flesh and blood at all, but a manmade ship that sails under the water. A submarine! Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned are shipwrecked and taken aboard the Nautilus by its enigmatic and brilliant captain who calls himself Nemo (Latin for "no one"). Why has Nemo built this incredible submarine, and what has caused his intense hatred for the powers that reign on dry land? And — more to the point — will he ever let his prisoners go?20,000 Leagues Under the Sea begs comparison to Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, and Ray Bradbury's introduction to this edition explores each to illuminate the other (please note there are spoilers for both in this paragraph!). Bradbury says both Melville and Verne are "blasphemers" in their open questioning of God's dispensations. But while Melville is bleakly existential, Verne has a much more practical view of things. If Melville and Verne were building the Tower of Babel, Melville would write poetry about ascending the heavens while Verne would be busy trying to discover the best mixture for the bricks. Ahab goes down dramatically with the Whale to his death; Nemo builds a mechanical whale and plumbs the depths of the oceans to survive. Both stories end in a swirling vortex, but while Ahab's fate is certain, Captain Nemo's is left open.I have to admit I was a bit disappointed with this book. It is evident that Verne did a lot of research for it — too much at times. In every ocean they visit, Monsieur Aronnax gives us detailed descriptions of the ocean life, telling us what each fish looks like (and whether it is good to eat). This is interesting some of the time, but as it went on and on, my eyes started glazing over. Often the characters ask questions that are obvious lead-ins to info dumps. This is fine to a point, but when it happens in every chapter it gets a bit old. I do see why Verne would go to such lengths (depths?) to describe everything minutely; his readers in 1869 would be thirsty for every word detailing the mysterious underwater realms of the ocean. Maybe it just doesn't work as well with modern readers who have already seen all kinds of underwater exploration footage and pictures. I do have to give Verne credit for thinking up halfway-plausible theories for how his submarine could operate (though several are not at all correct). Verne is a towering figure in the science fiction genre, and it's easy to see why. Despite the slow parts, there are some iconic moments here that I remember from the Great Illustrated Classics edition I read as a child... the shadowy underwater graveyard, the giant squid attack, and the pearl-oyster beds of Ceylon. Verne does not dwell overmuch on the philosophical aspects of the story, but their undertones are very much present, and they come out strongly when someone dies. Gradually we come to see that Nemo is just as much of a fanatic as the more demonstrative Ahab; he really means it when he says he hates the human societies on the dry land. In this book Nemo's nationality and the specific injustices he suffered remain a mystery, though I understand that these are explored in the sequel, The Mysterious Island.This book is thought provoking when read in our context of the modern environmentalist movement. In one place, it sounds like Nemo doesn't care about using nature responsibly; dugongs are becoming quite rare due to overhunting and yet Nemo allows Ned Land to harpoon one in a very offhand manner. But later, when Ned wants to kill some baleen whales, Nemo refuses to allow it because they would not use the meat; it would be for the sheer joy of killing, and those particular whales were already becoming rare. It is fascinating that Verne was so aware of the issues even then, and embodies these two opposing viewpoints through Ned Land and Captain Nemo. Neither, of course, can understand the other.And yet Nemo has no problem killing a group of sperm whales that were going to attack the more benign baleen whales. The carnage is quite graphic. Nemo justifies this by saying that the sperm whales are vicious killers that the world can easily spare. It seems that Nemo equates the vicious sperm whales with a particular nation/political movement, the one that destroyed his family. He sees himself as judgment meted out upon them.And randomly, I was also hugely amused at the brief mention of and explanation for global cooling (yes, you read that right). Interesting how we keep changing our mind on this topic. Maybe in the next century we will determine that the earth's temperature is remaining constant?I can understand why this is a classic, and I am impressed at the breadth of its ideas. Underwater ships, batteries powered by sodium, pressurized diving suits, guns that shoot electric bullets, incredibly inventive ocean cuisine — all of man's creative forces focused on reaping life from the elements. Man is moving forward, conquering, exploring, classifying, and cataloguing every inch of the globe. But after all its underwater victories over the forces of nature, the Nautilus disappears in a raging whirlpool... or does it? If the Nautilus is a metaphor for scientific progress, there is an interesting parallel here; its implications are still too ambiguous to admit of a neat and tidy conclusion. Every reader will come away with a different perspective.Just a note: I do not recommend the Tantor Media audiobook of this story. I tried to listen to it and had to turn it off because the narrator's voice (which was fine in itself) kept spiking and distorting even at a normal conversational volume level, resulting in a grating fuzziness. This really surprised me because it was recorded in 2003, presumably with decent equipment (?). But it was too annoying to be borne. I have not listened to the audiobook done by Naxos; perhaps it is better.Overall, I would say this is a work I respect because of its landmark position as a classic of science and adventure fiction. But besides Captain Nemo, the characters aren't very compelling, and the long, frequent descriptions of ocean life impede the plot. It left me cold, and I don't think it is a book I will revisit.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I first read this book when I was eight. While my classmates were rushing against one another to bring home Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys, I was devouring our library's collection of Verne and Sherlock Holmes books. They were thick, with huge prints and illustrations - clearly intended for kids. One time, I took out a book in the morning, read it during breaktimes, then returned it in the afternoon of that same day before I went home.Of all the titles in that collection, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea ended up being my favorite. So, more than ten years later, when I saw it again in the bookstore, I knew I just had to relive the adventure again. It had been a light and fast read in that small, thick book from third grade, so I certainly didn't expect it to be long and, frankly speaking, quite dragging in its unabridged form. That said, it was still a better adventure than before. If Verne didn't expound too much on the sea creature naming, this book would've been paced faster, but less believable too since he wrote it in a professor's point of view.In all, I still loved it and I look forward to re-reading his two other books that I first read a decade ago: Around The World In 80 Days, and A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Good book !
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5It was Horrible u shouldnt read it i hated it! it was boring!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5a good read
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5#BBRC #RealClassic#ReadHarder#booked2020#Popsugar#BeatthebacklistI read this story as a Great Illustrated Classic when I was a child. I remember loving it, but now I just feel cheated. The origianl story is so expressive and amazing, and all that stuff was cut out to dumb the book down for younger readers. I am no longer a fan of GIC and have not been for a while. I hate when these are the only stories kids have in their home/class or in their libraries.There were so many things I missed as a child that I catch now. Like how people thought they were hunting a giant dangerous narwhal, when actually it was the Nautilus. Or how the Nautilus was a type of prison. The same type of prison I sit in now for Covid-19. All the luxuries and things I love and plenty to keep me interested, but still isolated and scary. Until reading the full version of 20,000 Leagues I always thought of Captain Nemo as a type of pirate. He isn’t at all. He is a scared and lonely old man. Why else would he escape to the sea with no desire to see land again if he was not scared of something.I listened to this book. And while it was a bit slow, and sometimes boring as they describe the various sea creatures, overall it was a great story that I would listen to again. And to think it was written almost 150 years ago. H.G. Wells knows or guessed more about the depths of the ocean than many modern scientists. This book has held the test of time, and I think that 100 years from now it will still be considered relevant.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A good honest adventure book. With lots of fish.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5If you are interested in the state of ichthyology in the 1860's this is the book of you. Every new area visited starts with an extensive list of the flora & fauna of the ocean and as far as I can tell is the most scientifically accurate part of the book, the rest sadly does not hold up as well. This mostly feels like a research project hung over a very loose plot. There is little story or plot and no character development to be found. The central mystery of the who and why of Nemo is only resolved in the most superficial manner. While it is somewhat interesting to see what was state of the art in the mid 19 century this is a story crying out for an abridged version.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Phew, this took me ages to read. I had to dip in and out over quite a long period of time. Not because it was bad, no, just because of the sheer amount of information and description in every paragraph. If anyone wants a natural history tour of the oceans this is it, and it is fascinating. I even went and looked up some of the creature described in here so I could better picture it . The adventure that comes along with the education is somewhat sidelined by the geographical and biological information but is in itself quite exciting.It is very poorly paragraphed, as I'm sure is the main complaint, but that just means it is not one of those books you can read over a couple of days, and why is that a bad thing? Savour the descriptive prose and imagine you are also captive with the insane genius of Captain Nemo.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This novel tells the story of Captain Nemo and his submarine, the Nautilus. The story is narrated by a Professor Aronnax, who by accident and chance becomes a part of the ships crew, along with his servant and a whaler called Ned. They travel the seas, exploring the many wonders that the oceans normally keep hidden beneath its waves. I enjoyed the book throughout, however, the beginning and the end chapters are the most interesting, having more adventure to them. Verne is a lover of scientist and he can't help going on and on about the new species of fish and plant life beneath the waves, which are a wonder to the Professor narrating, but all sort of blurs together as any long list of names and descriptions would do. It fits perfectly with the character, of course, since he would have been deeply fascinated by such things, but it's a bit tedious for the reader.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is the unabridged version. It was long — very long! But what language, what grace of phrase! And finally, what drama! I imagine the abridged version leave out the lengthy descriptions of the underwater animals and plants, but I think it was worth reading. I admit that part is tedious. Perhaps my 4 stars are too generous for all I have agonized over the ichthyology, but the ending is so dramatic, it probably skews my rating to more positive.ETA: I just downgraded my star rating for the reasons stated above.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I really enjoyed the descriptions
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5What a wonderful amazing story!!
~Stephannie - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5A good story, a little slow at times but it never stops moving entirely. It was interesting to see how people viewed our ecology in the past. I would reccomend reading it with a dictionary at hand as the main character is a zoologist and uses terms not familiar to the common man. All in all, I'm glad I read it.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5"At ten o'clock in the evening the sky was on fire. The atmosphere was streaked with vivid lightning. I could not bear the brightness of it; while the captain, looking at it, seemed to envy the spirit of the tempest."
A disappointment, albeit one with some treats. The book is slow and wilfully digressive (all those fish), but in its characterisation of Captain Nemo it is superb: a man who would shut himself off from the world but is too angry to leave it alone; frustrated by the fact his anger does not mean more, using his grief to justify a position of moral arbiter despite his obvious crimes. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is a terrific character study entombed in an almost interminable record of imagined oceanography.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5there is only so many report on fish you can take in a book. After a while every coral looks like the other. And lots of unanswered questions. Where did Capt Nemo come from. What about the strange language? What happened that he decided to hide in his submarine. Maybe for 1860, this was a great adventure book, but now it is simply dated.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I read this for the Steampunk category of the SF Reading Challenge on Shelfari.
Although the story was very interesting and well-written, I found that it dragged at times due to the great amount of detail that Verne included. It often seemed that I was reading a natural history reference on the flora and fauna of the world's oceans.
That said, I would recommend it since it was an enjoyable read. This would also qualify for the category of Work not originally published in English. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5this book is good but at times it can get boring.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/520,000 Leagues under the sea - Jules Verne ****Every now and then I get the urge to pick up a book that has become considered a classic, but all too often I find them far too stuffy and boring for my taste and grudgingly drag myself from cover to cover without any real enjoyment. Gulliver’s Travels bored me to tears, Robinson Crusoe cured my insomnia and Jane Eyre made me hide the razor blades… so I decided to try something a little more up to date and that had the potential for a decent adventure. 20,000 leagues seemed an obvious choice.There can’t be many people in the western world that aren’t familiar with the Jules Verne masterpiece that follows the Nautilus as it make its journey beneath the waves. Professor Aronnax and his assistant Conseil, accompanied by master harpooner Ned Land find themselves prisoners aboard the Nautilus, the mastermind of Captain Nemo, a man who has shunned living on land and now utilizes his enormous submarine and the oceans to sustain his crew. As they traverse the globe it becomes more and more apparent that Nemo is a tortured genius who is intent on vengeance for the death of his family and the small band of prisoners must decide whether to resign their lives to the wonders of the Nautilus or make a break for freedom. With danger from both Nemo’s unpredictability and the wonders of the deep it soon becomes a race against time.Many authors are called visionaries, and sometimes I think history has been a little too kind, but not in the case of Verne. The ideas he comes up with for underwater travel and the use of electricity still seem amazing now, and I can only imagine the response in 1870, and even though submarines were around then, none would have been able to undertake the voyage described. He takes the reader through the seven seas, from warm tropical waters, under Atlantic ice shelves to even mythical cities that have been lost to the waves. Obviously well researched the plant and animal life is described in immense detail and at times does come across a little bit like a school textbook, but I suppose you have to understand that the undersea world was really unknown to the majority of people at that time and this would most likely be their first introduction to it, so the more detail the better.My biggest issue came not with the novel itself, but rather selecting which one I should read. Obviously the original text was written in French and since then there have been several translations, with each differing in the language used to previous. I had never really thought about this before, and just assumed a translation would be the same regardless of who wrote it, after all a sentence in French should in theory have only one way of being translated into English. This is not the case, and although the story remains unaltered the prose is dependent upon whoever undertakes the translating and what slant they use. My other problem was finding a text that was unabridged, my version was around 300 pages long with fairly small print, but there are others that run over 500 pages. I couldn’t find anywhere on my copy that advised whether it was complete or not, but I feel it was probably abridged and therefore I lost some of the experience.All in all though, I really enjoyed the book, far more than I thought I would. I didn’t realize there was also a sequel written called ‘The Mysterious Island’. I will definitely be looking that up in the near future.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I 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. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5In 1866 there are a number of sightings of an unexplained object in the ocean. Some of these objects are far apart and with no other explanation, it is thought that it might be a sea monster.An expedition is established with the U.S. Naval frigate Abraham Lincoln under command of Captain Farragut. They are determined to find this sea monster and deal with it.Professor Pierre Aronnax of the Museum of Paris had written articles about this phenomenon of a possible sea monsgter and he his asked to join the others, along with his man Conseil and Canadian harpooner, Ned Land.Once they are out to sea and have traveled far in search of this monster, something is sighted and a small boat is launched. Ned Land is ready with his harpoon and Pierre and Conseil are with him. Ned realizes that this object is not a monster as their boat is swamped and they are picked up by the submarine, the Nautilus under Captain Nemo.They are kept in gentle captivity as the Nautilus travels around the world with Captain Nemo commenting as they reach various places. Pierre also comments on some of the things they find, such as a sunken ship with treasure aboard.The style of writing is dry and without much emotional comment. The style was so different from today's writing that It was challenging to get involved with the story.Jules Verne had some excellent ideas such as the deep sea diving equipment but when the Nautilus is said to go 20,000 leagues under the sea, that is more than the circumference of the earth.It was interesting to see where writing has changed in the last one hundred years and the changes in science fiction writing.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Given 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).
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5The bits without the sea/fish discriptions are quite good. Shame there are so many discriptive passages.
Book preview
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea (With Original Illustrations) - Jules Verne
PART ONE
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I
A Shifting Reef
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The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten. Not to mention rumours 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 favour of the marvellous, 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 the 20th of July, 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 blow-holes columns of water mixed with air and vapour.
Similar facts were observed on the 23rd of July 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 signalled the monster to each other in 42° 15' N. lat. and 60° 35' W. long. 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 over all.
Now the largest whales, those which frequent those parts of the sea round 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 cafes, 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 unbelievers in the societies of the wise and the scientific journals. The question of the monster
inflamed all minds. Editors of scientific journals, quarrelling 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.
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 the 5th of March, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company, finding herself during the night in 27° 30' lat. and 72° 15' long., 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 horse power, 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 re-enacted 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.
The 13th of April, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the breeze favourable, the Scotia, of the Cunard Company's line, found herself in 15° 12' long. and 45° 37' lat. She was going at the speed of thirteen knots and a half.
At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, whilst 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 afterwards 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 water-mark 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 1 3/8 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 steam-ships 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.¹
¹ Member of the whale family.
CHAPTER II
Pro and Con
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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 towards 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.
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 honour 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. 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 number of the 30th of April. 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 organisation 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 fishes, or cetaceans of other kinds, or even of new species, of an organisation formed to inhabit the strata inaccessible to soundings, and which an accident of some sort 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 amongst 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 armoured 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 round 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 the 2nd of July, 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 revictualled 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
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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 honourable 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 towards 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 travelling utensils, coats, shirts, and stockings—without counting, as many as you can, and make haste.
And your collections, sir?
observed Conseil.
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. 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.
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 honour'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.
CHAPTER IV
Ned Land
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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 burnt 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 amongst 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 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 attracted attention, but above all the boldness of his look, which gave a singular expression to his face.
Who calls himself Canadian calls himself French; and, little communicative as Ned Land was, I must admit that he took a certain liking for me. My nationality drew him to me, no doubt. It was an opportunity for him to talk, and for me to hear, that old language of Rabelais, which is still in use in some Canadian provinces. The harpooner's family was originally from Quebec, and was already a tribe of hardy fishermen when this town belonged to France.
Little by little, Ned Land acquired a taste for chatting, and I loved to hear the recital of his adventures in the polar seas. He related his fishing, and his combats, with natural poetry of expression; his recital took the form of an epic poem, and I seemed to be listening to a Canadian Homer singing the Iliad of the regions of the North.
I am portraying this hardy companion as I really knew him. We are old friends now, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and cemented amidst extreme dangers. Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory.
Now, what was Ned Land's opinion upon the question of the marine monster? I must admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was the only one on board who did not share that universal conviction. He even avoided the subject, which I one day thought it my duty to press upon him. One magnificent evening, the 30th July (that is to say, three weeks after our departure), the frigate was abreast of Cape Blanc, thirty miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia. We had crossed the tropic of Capricorn, and the Straits of Magellan opened less than seven hundred miles to the south. Before eight days were over the Abraham Lincoln would be ploughing the waters of the Pacific.
Seated on the poop, Ned Land and I were chatting of one thing and another as