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Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
Chapter 6. AT FULL STEAM
At this cry, the whole ship's crew hurried towards the harpooner.
The commander, officers, masters, sailors, and cabin boys all came.
Even the engineers left their engines, and the stokers left their furnaces.
The order to stop had been given, and the frigate now simply moved by its own speed.
The darkness was very deep, and no matter how good the Canadian's eyes were, I asked myself how he had managed to see.
I also wondered what he had been able to see.
My heart beat as if it would break.
But Ned Land wasn't mistaken, and we all saw the object he pointed to.
About four hundred yards from the Abraham Lincoln, on the right side, the sea seemed to be lit up all over.
It wasn't just a phosphoric light, it glowed with a steady, intense, unnatural radiance.
The monster rose some feet from the water, and then threw out that very strong but strange light mentioned in the reports of several captains.
This magnificent brightness must have been produced by something with great shining power.
The lit part made a huge oval shape on the sea, very long, with a center that gave off burning heat.
Its overpowering brightness died out in stages.
"It's only a collection of phosphoric particles," cried one of the officers.
"No, sir, certainly not," I replied.
"Never did pholades or salpae produce such a powerful light. That brightness is electrical in nature. Besides, look, look! It moves. It's moving forwards, backwards. It's rushing towards us!"
A general cry rose from the frigate.
"Silence!" said the Captain.
"Turn the helm, reverse the engines."
The steam was shut off, and the Abraham Lincoln, turning to the left, made a semicircle.
"Right the helm, go ahead," cried the Captain.
These orders were carried out, and the frigate moved quickly away from the burning light.
I was mistaken, it tried to escape, but the supernatural animal came towards it at twice its speed.
We gasped for breath, Stupefaction more than fear made us silent and still.
The animal gained on us, playing with the waves.
It went around the frigate, which was then moving at fourteen knots, and covered it with its electric rings like shining dust.
Then it moved away two or three miles, leaving a phosphorescent trail, like the steam that express trains leave behind.
All at once, from the dark horizon where it had gone to gain speed, the monster rushed toward the Abraham Lincoln, terrifyingly fast.
It stopped suddenly about twenty feet from the hull, and died out.
It didn't dive under the water, because its brightness didn't fade.
But it stopped suddenly, as if the source of this bright light was gone.
Then it appeared again on the other side of the ship, as if it had turned and slid under the hull.
At any moment, a crash could have happened that would have been deadly for us.
However, I was surprised at the frigate's actions, it fled and didn't attack.
On the captain's face, usually so calm, there was an expression of strange surprise.
"M. Aronnax," he said, "I don't know what terrible being I have to deal with, and I won't risk my frigate foolishly in this darkness."
"Besides, how can we attack this unknown thing? How can we defend ourselves from it? Let's wait for daylight, and the scene will change".
"You have no more doubt, captain, about the nature of the animal?"
"No, sir. It's clearly a giant narwhal, and an electric one."
"Perhaps," I added, "one can only approach it with a gymnotus or a torpedo."
"Without a doubt," replied the captain.
"If it has such terrible power, it's the most dangerous animal that ever existed. That's why, sir, I must be careful."
The crew stayed on their feet all night, No one thought of sleep.
The Abraham Lincoln, not being able to compete with such speed, had slowed down and sailed at half speed.
The narwhal, copying the frigate, let the waves rock it as it wished and seemed determined to stay in the fight's area.
Towards midnight, however, it disappeared, its electric light fading until nothing remained.
Or, to use a better word, it "died out" like a large glow-worm.
Had it fled? One could only fear, not hope.
But at seven minutes to one o'clock in the morning, we heard a deafening whistling sound, like the sound of water rushing with great force.
The captain, Ned Land, and I were then on the poop, looking hard into the deep darkness.
"Ned Land," asked the commander, "you've often heard the roaring of whales?"
"Often, sir. But never such whales that brought me in two thousand dollars. If I can only get within four harpoon lengths of it!"
"But to get close to it," said the commander, "I should put a whaling boat at your disposal?"
"Certainly, sir."
"That would be risking my men's lives."
"And mine too," the harpooner said simply.
Towards two o'clock in the morning, the burning light appeared again, just as strong, about five miles to windward of the Abraham Lincoln.
Despite the distance, and the noise of the wind and sea, we heard clearly the loud strokes of the animal's tail, and even its panting breath.
The enormous narwhal came to breathe at the surface of the water.
The air was taken into its lungs like steam in the huge cylinders of a machine with two thousand horse-power.
"Hmm," I thought, "a whale with the strength of a cavalry regiment would be quite a whale!"
We stayed alert until daylight, and prepared for the fight.
The fishing tools were laid along the nettings.
The second lieutenant loaded blunderbusses that could throw harpoons a mile, and long duck-guns with explosive bullets that caused deadly wounds.
Ned Land just sharpened his harpoon, it was a terrible weapon in his hands.
At six o'clock, day began to break.
And with the first light, the electric light of the narwhal disappeared.
At seven o'clock, the day was bright enough, but a very thick sea fog hid our view, and the best spy-glasses couldn't see through it.
That caused disappointment and anger among officers and sailors alike across the frigate's decks.
I climbed the mizzen-mast, Some officers were already sitting on the mast heads.
At eight o'clock, the fog lay heavily on the waves, and its thick layers rose little by little.
The horizon grew wider and clearer at the same time.
Suddenly, just like the day before, Ned Land's voice was heard.
"The thing itself on the left side!" cried the harpooner.
Every eye turned towards the point he indicated.
There, a mile and a half from the frigate, a long blackish body rose a yard above the waves.
Its tail, moving violently, made a large eddy.
Never did a tail beat the sea with such force.
A huge track of dazzling whiteness marked the animal's path, and made a long curve.
The frigate approached the cetacean, I examined it carefully.
The reports of the Shannon and the Helvetia had rather exaggerated its size.
And I guessed its length at only two hundred and fifty feet.
As for its shape, I could only guess that it was very well proportioned.
While I watched this thing, two jets of steam and water were thrown from its vents, and rose to the height of 120 feet.
So I found out how it breathed.
I decided for sure that it belonged to the vertebrate group, class mammalia.
The crew waited impatiently for their chief's orders.
He, after watching the animal carefully, called the engineer, the engineer ran to him.
"Sir," said the commander, "do you have steam up?"
"Yes, sir," answered the engineer.
"Well, build up your fires and put on all steam."
Three cheers greeted this order, the time for the fight had come.
A few moments later, the two funnels of the frigate poured out clouds of black smoke, and the bridge shook under the trembling of the boilers.
The Abraham Lincoln, pushed by its wonderful screw, went straight at the animal.
The animal let it come within half a cable's length.
Then, as if it didn't want to dive, it took a little turn and stopped a short distance away.
This chase lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, without the frigate gaining two yards on the cetacean.
It was quite clear that at this rate, we'd never catch up with it.
"Well, Mr. Land," asked the captain, "do you advise me to put the boats out to sea?"
"No, sir," replied Ned Land.
"Because we won't catch that beast easily."
"What shall we do then?"
"Put on more steam if you can, sir. With your permission, I'll stand under the bowsprit, and if we get within harpooning distance, I'll throw my harpoon."
"Go, Ned," said the captain.
"Engineer, put on more pressure."
Ned Land went to his post, harpoon in hand, eyes fixed on the cetacean.
The fires were increased, the screw turned forty-three times a minute, and the steam poured out of the valves.
We threw the log and calculated that the Abraham Lincoln was going at 18.5 miles an hour.
But the cursed animal also swam at 18.5 miles an hour.
For a whole hour, the frigate kept up this speed, without gaining six feet.
It was humiliating for one of the fastest ships in the American navy.
A stubborn anger took hold of the crew.
The sailors cursed the monster, who, as before, didn't bother to answer them.
The captain no longer just twisted his beard, he bit it.
The captain called the engineer again, his face showing growing anxiety.
"You've turned full steam in?"
"Yes, sir," replied the engineer.
The speed of the Abraham Lincoln increased.
Its masts trembled down to their bases, and the clouds of smoke could hardly find their way out of the narrow funnels.
They threw the log a second time.
"Well?" asked the captain of the man at the wheel.
"Nineteen miles and three-tenths, sir."
"Put on more steam."
The engineer obeyed, the manometer showed ten degrees.
But the cetacean got warm itself, no doubt.
Because without straining, it made 19.3 miles.
What a chase! No, I can't describe the emotion that ran through me.
Ned Land stayed at his post, harpoon in hand.
Several times, the animal let us gain on it.
"We'll catch it! We'll catch it!" cried the Canadian.
But just as he was going to strike, the cetacean escaped with a speed that couldn't be less than thirty miles an hour.
And even during our maximum speed, it bullied the frigate, going round and round it.
A cry of fury broke from everyone.
At noon, we were no further than at eight o'clock in the morning.
The captain then decided to take more direct action.
"Ah!" he said, "that animal goes faster than the Abraham Lincoln. Very well! We'll see if it can escape these conical bullets. Send your men to the forecastle, sir."
The forecastle gun was immediately loaded and turned.
But the shot passed some feet above the cetacean, which was half a mile away.
"Another, more to the right," cried the commander, "and five dollars to whoever hits that terrible beast."
An old gunner with a grey beard, I can see him now.
With a steady eye and a serious face, he went up to the gun and took a long aim.
A loud report was heard, mixed with the cheers of the crew.
The bullet did its work, it hit the animal, but not fatally.
It slid off the rounded surface and was lost in two miles of sea.
The chase began again, and the captain, leaning towards me, said,
"I'll chase that beast until my frigate bursts."
"Yes," I answered, "and you'll be quite right to do it."
I wished the beast would get tired, and not be as tireless as a steam engine.
But it was no use, Hours passed, without it showing any signs of exhaustion.
However, I must say in praise of the Abraham Lincoln that it struggled on without tiring.
I can't count the distance it made under three hundred miles during this unlucky day, November the 6th.
But night came on and covered the rough ocean.
Now I thought our expedition was over, and that we'd never see the extraordinary animal again, I was mistaken.
At ten minutes to eleven, the electric light reappeared three miles to windward of the frigate, as bright as the night before.
The narwhal seemed still, Perhaps, tired from its day's work, it slept, letting itself float with the waves.
Now was a chance that the captain decided to take.
He gave his orders, the Abraham Lincoln kept up half steam and moved carefully so as not to wake its enemy.
It isn't rare to meet whales in the middle of the ocean that are so sound asleep that they can be attacked successfully.
And Ned Land had harpooned more than one during its sleep.
The Canadian went to take his place again under the bowsprit.
The frigate came near noiselessly, stopped at two cables' lengths from the animal, and followed its path.
No one breathed, a deep silence ruled on the bridge.
We weren't a hundred feet from the burning center, whose light grew and dazzled our eyes.
At this moment, leaning on the forecastle railing, I saw Ned Land below me.
He held the martingale with one hand and waved his terrible harpoon with the other, hardly twenty feet from the still animal.
Suddenly his arm straightened, and the harpoon was thrown.
I heard the strong sound of the weapon, which seemed to have hit a hard body.
The electric light went out suddenly, and two enormous waterspouts broke over the bridge of the frigate.
They rushed like a torrent from front to back, knocking over men and breaking the ropes of the spars.
A terrible shock followed, and thrown over the rail without having time to stop myself, I fell into the sea.