The Man of the Waters
IT WAS THE ship’s commander who had just spoken.
At these words Ned Land stood up quickly. Nearly strangled, the
steward staggered out at a signal from his superior; but such was the
commander’s authority aboard his vessel, not one gesture gave away the
resentment that this man must have felt toward the Canadian. In
silence we waited for the outcome of this scene; Conseil, in spite of
himself, seemed almost fascinated, I was stunned.
Arms crossed, leaning against a corner of the table, the commander
studied us with great care. Was he reluctant to speak further? Did he
regret those words he had just pronounced in French? You would have
thought so.
After a few moments of silence, which none of us would have dreamed of
interrupting:
“Gentlemen,” he said in a calm, penetrating voice, “I speak French,
English, German, and Latin with equal fluency. Hence I could have
answered you as early as our initial interview, but first I wanted to
make your acquaintance and then think things over. Your four versions
of the same narrative, perfectly consistent by and large, established
your personal identities for me. I now know that sheer chance has
placed in my presence Professor Pierre Aronnax, specialist in natural
history at the Paris Museum and entrusted with a scientific mission
abroad, his manservant Conseil, and Ned Land, a harpooner of Canadian
origin aboard the Abraham Lincoln, a frigate in the national navy of
the United States of America.”
I bowed in agreement. The commander hadn’t put a question to me. So no
answer was called for. This man expressed himself with perfect ease
and without a trace of an accent. His phrasing was clear, his words
well chosen, his facility in elocution remarkable. And yet, to me, he
didn’t have “the feel” of a fellow countryman.
He went on with the conversation as follows:
“No doubt, sir, you’ve felt that I waited rather too long before
paying you this second visit. After discovering your identities, I
wanted to weigh carefully what policy to pursue toward you. I had
great difficulty deciding. Some extremely inconvenient circumstances
have brought you into the presence of a man who has cut himself off
from humanity. Your coming has disrupted my whole existence.”
“Unintentionally,” I said.
“Unintentionally?” the stranger replied, raising his voice a
little. “Was it unintentionally that the Abraham Lincoln hunted me on
every sea? Was it unintentionally that you traveled aboard that
frigate? Was it unintentionally that your shells bounced off my ship’s
hull? Was it unintentionally that Mr. Ned Land hit me with his
harpoon?”
I detected a controlled irritation in these words. But there was a
perfectly natural reply to these charges, and I made it.
“Sir,” I said, “you’re surely unaware of the discussions that have
taken place in Europe and America with yourself as the subject. You
don’t realize that various accidents, caused by collisions with your
underwater machine, have aroused public passions on those two
continents. I’ll spare you the innumerable hypotheses with which we’ve
tried to explain this inexplicable phenomenon, whose secret is yours
alone. But please understand that the Abraham Lincoln chased you over
the Pacific high seas in the belief it was hunting some powerful
marine monster, which had to be purged from the ocean at all cost.”
A half smile curled the commander’s lips; then, in a calmer tone:
“Professor Aronnax,” he replied, “do you dare claim that your frigate
wouldn’t have chased and cannonaded an underwater boat as readily as a
monster?”
This question baffled me, since Commander Farragut would certainly
have shown no such hesitation. He would have seen it as his sworn duty
to destroy a contrivance of this kind just as promptly as a gigantic
narwhale.
“So you understand, sir,” the stranger went on, “that I have a right
to treat you as my enemy.”
I kept quiet, with good reason. What was the use of debating such a
proposition, when superior force can wipe out the best arguments?
“It took me a good while to decide,” the commander went on. “Nothing
obliged me to grant you hospitality. If I were to part company with
you, I’d have no personal interest in ever seeing you again. I could
put you back on the platform of this ship that has served as your
refuge. I could sink under the sea, and I could forget you ever
existed. Wouldn’t that be my right?”
“Perhaps it would be the right of a savage,” I replied. “But not that
of a civilized man.”
“Professor,” the commander replied swiftly, “I’m not what you term a
civilized man! I’ve severed all ties with society, for reasons that I
alone have the right to appreciate. Therefore I obey none of its
regulations, and I insist that you never invoke them in front of me!”
This was plain speaking. A flash of anger and scorn lit up the
stranger’s eyes, and I glimpsed a fearsome past in this man’s
life. Not only had he placed himself beyond human laws, he had
rendered himself independent, out of all reach, free in the strictest
sense of the word! For who would dare chase him to the depths of the
sea when he thwarted all attacks on the surface? What ship could
withstand a collision with his underwater Monitor? What armor plate,
no matter how heavy, could bear the thrusts of his spur? No man among
men could call him to account for his actions. God, if he believed in
Him, his conscience if he had one—these were the only judges to whom
he was answerable.
These thoughts swiftly crossed my mind while this strange individual
fell silent, like someone completely self-absorbed. I regarded him
with a mixture of fear and fascination, in the same way, no doubt,
that Oedipus regarded the Sphinx.
After a fairly long silence, the commander went on with our
conversation.
“So I had difficulty deciding,” he said. “But I concluded that my
personal interests could be reconciled with that natural compassion to
which every human being has a right. Since fate has brought you here,
you’ll stay aboard my vessel. You’ll be free here, and in exchange for
that freedom, moreover totally related to it, I’ll lay on you just one
condition. Your word that you’ll submit to it will be sufficient.”
“Go on, sir,” I replied. “I assume this condition is one an honest man
can accept?”
“Yes, sir. Just this. It’s possible that certain unforeseen events may
force me to confine you to your cabins for some hours, or even for
some days as the case may be. Since I prefer never to use violence, I
expect from you in such a case, even more than in any other, your
unquestioning obedience. By acting in this way, I shield you from
complicity, I absolve you of all responsibility, since I myself make
it impossible for you to see what you aren’t meant to see. Do you
accept this condition?”
So things happened on board that were quite odd to say the least,
things never to be seen by people not placing themselves beyond
society’s laws! Among all the surprises the future had in store for
me, this would not be the mildest.
“We accept,” I replied. “Only, I’ll ask your permission, sir, to
address a question to you, just one.”
“Go ahead, sir.”
“You said we’d be free aboard your vessel?”
“Completely.”
“Then I would ask what you mean by this freedom.”
“Why, the freedom to come, go, see, and even closely observe
everything happening here—except under certain rare circumstances—in
short, the freedom we ourselves enjoy, my companions and I.”
It was obvious that we did not understand each other.
“Pardon me, sir,” I went on, “but that’s merely the freedom that every
prisoner has, the freedom to pace his cell! That’s not enough for us.”
“Nevertheless, it will have to do!”
“What! We must give up seeing our homeland, friends, and relatives
ever again?”
“Yes, sir. But giving up that intolerable earthly yoke that some men
call freedom is perhaps less painful than you think!”
“By thunder!” Ned Land shouted. “I’ll never promise I won’t try
getting out of here!”
“I didn’t ask for such a promise, Mr. Land,” the commander replied
coldly.
“Sir,” I replied, flaring up in spite of myself, “you’re taking unfair
advantage of us! This is sheer cruelty!”
“No, sir, it’s an act of mercy! You’re my prisoners of war! I’ve cared
for you when, with a single word, I could plunge you back into the
ocean depths! You attacked me! You’ve just stumbled on a secret no
living man must probe, the secret of my entire existence! Do you think
I’ll send you back to a world that must know nothing more of me?
Never! By keeping you on board, it isn’t you whom I care for, it’s
me!”
These words indicated that the commander pursued a policy impervious
to arguments.
“Then, sir,” I went on, “you give us, quite simply, a choice between
life and death?”
“Quite simply.”
“My friends,” I said, “to a question couched in these terms, our
answer can be taken for granted. But no solemn promises bind us to the
commander of this vessel.”
“None, sir,” the stranger replied.
Then, in a gentler voice, he went on:
“Now, allow me to finish what I have to tell you. I’ve heard of you,
Professor Aronnax. You, if not your companions, won’t perhaps complain
too much about the stroke of fate that has brought us together. Among
the books that make up my favorite reading, you’ll find the work
you’ve published on the great ocean depths. I’ve pored over it. You’ve
taken your studies as far as terrestrial science can go. But you don’t
know everything because you haven’t seen everything. Let me tell you,
professor, you won’t regret the time you spend aboard my
vessel. You’re going to voyage through a land of wonders. Stunned
amazement will probably be your habitual state of mind. It will be a
long while before you tire of the sights constantly before your
eyes. I’m going to make another underwater tour of the world—perhaps
my last, who knows?—and I’ll review everything I’ve studied in the
depths of these seas that I’ve crossed so often, and you can be my
fellow student. Starting this very day, you’ll enter a new element,
you’ll see what no human being has ever seen before—since my men and I
no longer count—and thanks to me, you’re going to learn the ultimate
secrets of our planet.”
I can’t deny it; the commander’s words had a tremendous effect on
me. He had caught me on my weak side, and I momentarily forgot that
not even this sublime experience was worth the loss of my
freedom. Besides, I counted on the future to resolve this important
question. So I was content to reply:
“Sir, even though you’ve cut yourself off from humanity, I can see
that you haven’t disowned all human feeling. We’re castaways whom
you’ve charitably taken aboard, we’ll never forget that. Speaking for
myself, I don’t rule out that the interests of science could override
even the need for freedom, which promises me that, in exchange, our
encounter will provide great rewards.”
I thought the commander would offer me his hand, to seal our
agreement. He did nothing of the sort. I regretted that.
“One last question,” I said, just as this inexplicable being seemed
ready to withdraw.
“Ask it, professor.”
“By what name am I to call you?”
“Sir,” the commander replied, “to you, I’m simply Captain Nemo;* to
me, you and your companions are simply passengers on the Nautilus.”
*Latin: nemo means “no one.” Ed.
Captain Nemo called out. A steward appeared. The captain gave him his
orders in that strange language I couldn’t even identify. Then,
turning to the Canadian and Conseil:
“A meal is waiting for you in your cabin,” he told them. “Kindly
follow this man.”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse!” the harpooner replied.
After being confined for over thirty hours, he and Conseil were
finally out of this cell.
“And now, Professor Aronnax, our own breakfast is ready. Allow me to
lead the way.”
“Yours to command, captain.”
I followed Captain Nemo, and as soon as I passed through the doorway,
I went down a kind of electrically lit passageway that resembled a
gangway on a ship. After a stretch of some ten meters, a second door
opened before me.
I then entered a dining room, decorated and furnished in austere good
taste. Inlaid with ebony trim, tall oaken sideboards stood at both
ends of this room, and sparkling on their shelves were staggered rows
of earthenware, porcelain, and glass of incalculable value. There
silver-plated dinnerware gleamed under rays pouring from light
fixtures in the ceiling, whose glare was softened and tempered by
delicately painted designs.
In the center of this room stood a table, richly spread. Captain Nemo
indicated the place I was to occupy.
“Be seated,” he told me, “and eat like the famished man you must be.”
Our breakfast consisted of several dishes whose contents were all
supplied by the sea, and some foods whose nature and derivation were
unknown to me. They were good, I admit, but with a peculiar flavor to
which I would soon grow accustomed. These various food items seemed to
be rich in phosphorous, and I thought that they, too, must have been
of marine origin.
Captain Nemo stared at me. I had asked him nothing, but he read my
thoughts, and on his own he answered the questions I was itching to
address him.
“Most of these dishes are new to you,” he told me. “But you can
consume them without fear. They’re healthy and nourishing. I renounced
terrestrial foods long ago, and I’m none the worse for it. My crew are
strong and full of energy, and they eat what I eat.”
“So,” I said, “all these foods are products of the sea?”
“Yes, professor, the sea supplies all my needs. Sometimes I cast my
nets in our wake, and I pull them up ready to burst. Sometimes I go
hunting right in the midst of this element that has long seemed so far
out of man’s reach, and I corner the game that dwells in my underwater
forests. Like the flocks of old Proteus, King Neptune’s shepherd, my
herds graze without fear on the ocean’s immense prairies. There I own
vast properties that I harvest myself, and which are forever sown by
the hand of the Creator of All Things.”
I stared at Captain Nemo in definite astonishment, and I answered him:
“Sir, I understand perfectly how your nets can furnish excellent fish
for your table; I understand less how you can chase aquatic game in
your underwater forests; but how a piece of red meat, no matter how
small, can figure in your menu, that I don’t understand at all.”
“Nor I, sir,” Captain Nemo answered me. “I never touch the flesh of
land animals.”
“Nevertheless, this . . . ,” I went on, pointing to a dish where some
slices of loin were still left.
“What you believe to be red meat, professor, is nothing other than
loin of sea turtle. Similarly, here are some dolphin livers you might
mistake for stewed pork. My chef is a skillful food processor who
excels at pickling and preserving these various exhibits from the
ocean. Feel free to sample all of these foods. Here are some preserves
of sea cucumber that a Malaysian would declare to be unrivaled in the
entire world, here’s cream from milk furnished by the udders of
cetaceans, and sugar from the huge fucus plants in the North Sea; and
finally, allow me to offer you some marmalade of sea anemone, equal to
that from the tastiest fruits.”
So I sampled away, more as a curiosity seeker than an epicure, while
Captain Nemo delighted me with his incredible anecdotes.
“But this sea, Professor Aronnax,” he told me, “this prodigious,
inexhaustible wet nurse of a sea not only feeds me, she dresses me as
well. That fabric covering you was woven from the masses of filaments
that anchor certain seashells; as the ancients were wont to do, it was
dyed with purple ink from the murex snail and shaded with violet tints
that I extract from a marine slug, the Mediterranean sea hare. The
perfumes you’ll find on the washstand in your cabin were produced from
the oozings of marine plants. Your mattress was made from the ocean’s
softest eelgrass. Your quill pen will be whalebone, your ink a juice
secreted by cuttlefish or squid. Everything comes to me from the sea,
just as someday everything will return to it!”
“You love the sea, captain.”
“Yes, I love it! The sea is the be all and end all! It covers
seven-tenths of the planet earth. Its breath is clean and
healthy. It’s an immense wilderness where a man is never lonely,
because he feels life astir on every side. The sea is simply the
vehicle for a prodigious, unearthly mode of existence; it’s simply
movement and love; it’s living infinity, as one of your poets put
it. And in essence, professor, nature is here made manifest by all
three of her kingdoms, mineral, vegetable, and animal. The last of
these is amply represented by the four zoophyte groups, three classes
of articulates, five classes of mollusks, and three vertebrate
classes: mammals, reptiles, and those countless legions of fish, an
infinite order of animals totaling more than 13,000 species, of which
only one-tenth belong to fresh water. The sea is a vast pool of
nature. Our globe began with the sea, so to speak, and who can say we
won’t end with it! Here lies supreme tranquility. The sea doesn’t
belong to tyrants. On its surface they can still exercise their
iniquitous claims, battle each other, devour each other, haul every
earthly horror. But thirty feet below sea level, their dominion
ceases, their influence fades, their power vanishes! Ah, sir, live!
Live in the heart of the seas! Here alone lies independence! Here I
recognize no superiors! Here I’m free!”
Captain Nemo suddenly fell silent in the midst of this enthusiastic
outpouring. Had he let himself get carried away, past the bounds of
his habitual reserve? Had he said too much? For a few moments he
strolled up and down, all aquiver. Then his nerves grew calmer, his
facial features recovered their usual icy composure, and turning to
me:
“Now, professor,” he said, “if you’d like to inspect the Nautilus, I’m
yours to command.”