Двадцать тысяч лье под водой / Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Жюль Верн
people, especially in America and England, were determined to purge the ocean of this monster, to insure the safety of transoceanic travel. A high-speed frigate, the Abraham Lincoln[11], was ready to start as soon as possible.
But, as it always happens, just when a decision had been made to chase the monster, the monster ceased to appear. For two months nobody heard a word about it. Not a single ship encountered it. People were constantly babbling about the creature, even via the Atlantic Cable! Accordingly, the wags claimed that this rascal had got some passing telegram.
So the frigate was equipped for a voyage and armed with fearsome fishing gear, but nobody knew where to steer it. And impatience grew until, on June 2, word came that a steamer on the San Francisco line sailing from California to Shanghai, had sighted the animal again, three weeks before in the northerly seas of the Pacific.
This news caused intense excitement. Not even a 24-hour breather was granted to Commander Farragut[12]. His provisions were loaded on board. His coal bunkers were overflowing. Not a crewman was missing from his post. Commander Farragut wanted nothing more than to go forth.
I received a letter three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left its pier; the letter read as follows:
Pierre Aronnax
Professor at the Paris Museum
Fifth Avenue Hotel
New York
Sir,
If you would like to join the expedition on the Abraham Lincoln, the government of the Union will be pleased to regard you as France’s representative in this undertaking. Commander Farragut has a cabin at your disposal.
Very cordially yours,
Chapter 3
Three seconds after reading this letter from the honorable Secretary of the Navy, I understood that my true vocation, my sole purpose in life, was to hunt down this disturbing monster and rid the world of it.
I had just returned from an arduous journey, exhausted and badly needing a rest. I wanted nothing more than to see my country again, my friends, my modest quarters by the Botanical Gardens, my dearly beloved collections! But now nothing could have held me back. I forgot everything else, and without another thought of exhaustion, friends, or collections, I accepted the American government’s offer.
“Besides,” I thought, “all roads lead home to Europe, and our unicorn may be gracious enough to take me toward the coast of France! That fine animal may even let itself be captured in European seas—as a personal favor to me—and I’ll bring back to the Museum of Natural History at least half a meter of its ivory lance! Conseil[13]!” I called in an impatient voice.
Conseil was my servant. A devoted lad who went with me on all my journeys; a gallant Flemish boy whom I genuinely liked and who returned the compliment; a born stoic, punctilious on principle, hardworking, very skillful with his hands.
In Conseil I had a specialist in biological classification, an enthusiast who could run with acrobatic agility up and down the whole ladder of branches, groups, classes, subclasses, orders, families, genera, subgenera, species, and varieties. Classifying was everything to him, so he knew nothing else. And yet, what a fine, gallant lad he was!
For the past ten years, Conseil had gone with me everywhere. The lad was thirty years old, and I had turned forty.
Conseil had but one flaw. He was a fanatic on formality, and he only addressed me in the third person.
“Conseil!” I repeated, while beginning my preparations for departure. I had confidence in this devoted lad. Ordinarily, I never asked whether or not it suited him to go with me on my journeys; but this time an expedition could drag on indefinitely. What would Conseil say?
“Conseil!” I called a third time.
Conseil appeared.
“Did master summon me?” he said, entering.
“Yes, my boy. Get my things ready, get yours ready. We’re departing in two hours.”
“As master wishes,” Conseil replied serenely.
“We haven’t a moment to lose. Pack as much into my trunk as you can, my traveling kit, my suits, shirts, and socks, just squeeze it all in—and hurry!”
“What about master’s collections?” Conseil observed.
“We’ll deal with them later. The hotel will keep them for us.”
“Then we aren’t returning to Paris?” Conseil asked.
“Yes, we are … certainly … ,” I replied evasively, “but after we make a detour.”
“Whatever detour master wishes.”
“Oh, it’s nothing really! A route slightly less direct, that’s all. We’re leaving on the Abraham Lincoln.”
“As master thinks best,” Conseil replied placidly.
“You see, my friend, we’re going to rid the seas of the monster, the notorious narwhale! It’s a glorious mission but also a dangerous one! We don’t know where it will take us! These beasts can be quite unpredictable!”
“What master does, I’ll do,” Conseil replied.
“But think it over, because I don’t want to hide anything from you. This is one of those voyages from which people don’t always come back!”
“As master wishes.”
A quarter of an hour later, our trunks were ready. Conseil did them in a flash, and I was sure the lad hadn’t missed a thing, because he classified shirts and suits as expertly as birds and mammals.
For a fare of twenty francs, the vehicle went down Broadway to Union Square, took Fourth Ave. to its junction with Bowery St., turned into Katrin St. and halted at Pier 34. There the ferry transferred men, horses, and carriage to Brooklyn, and in a few minutes we arrived at the wharf next to which the Abraham Lincoln was vomiting torrents of black smoke from its two funnels.
Our baggage was immediately carried to the deck of the frigate. I rushed aboard and asked for Commander Farragut. One of the sailors led me to the afterdeck. I saw a smart-looking officer who extended his hand to me.
“Professor Pierre Aronnax?” he said to me.
“The same[14],” I replied. “Commander Farragut?”
“In person. Welcome aboard, professor. Your cabin is waiting for you.”
I bowed, and I was taken to the cabin.
The Abraham Lincoln was a high-speed frigate furnished with superheating equipment. Under the pressure it reached an average speed of 18.3 miles per hour, a considerable speed, but still not enough to cope with our gigantic cetacean.
I was satisfied with my cabin, which was located in the stern.
“We’ll be quite comfortable here,” I told Conseil.
I climbed on deck to watch the preparations for getting under way. If I’d been delayed by a quarter of an hour or even less, the frigate would have gone without me, and I would have missed out on this unearthly, extraordinary, and inconceivable expedition.
But Commander Farragut didn’t want to waste a single day, or even a single hour, in making for those seas where the animal had just been sighted.
“Go ahead!” Commander Farragut called.
Chapter 4
Commander Farragut was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he commanded. His ship and he were one. He was its very soul. He believed in cetacean as certain pious women
the Abraham Lincoln – «Авраам Линкольн» (
Commander Farragut – капитан Фарагут
Conseil – Консель
the same – он самый