Двадцать тысяч лье под водой / Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Жюль Верн
Mr. Land,” the commander asked, “do you still advise putting my longboats to sea?”
“No, sir,” Ned Land replied, “because that beast won’t be caught against its will.”
“Then what should we do?”
“If we can get within a harpoon length, I’ll harpoon the brute.”
“Go to it, Ned,” Commander Farragut replied.
Ned Land made his way to his post. We verified that our ship was going at the rate of 18.5 miles per hour. But that damned animal also did a speed of 18.5. This was humiliating for one of the fastest ships in the American navy.
What a chase! No, I can’t describe the excitement that shook my very being. Ned Land stayed at his post, harpoon in hand. Several times the animal let us approach. But by noon we were no farther along than at eight o’clock in the morning.
Commander Farragut then decided to use more direct methods.
“Bah!” he said. “So that animal is faster than us. All right, we’ll see if it can outrun our conical shells[20]!
The cannoneer fired a shot, but his shell passed some feet above the cetacean, which stayed half a mile off.
“$500 to the man who can pierce that infernal beast!” the Commander shouted
An old gray-bearded gunner approached the cannon, put it in position, and took aim. There was a mighty explosion, mingled with cheers from the crew.
The shell reached its target; it hit the animal, but not in the usual fashion—it bounced off that rounded surface and vanished into the sea two miles out.
“Oh!” said the old gunner in his anger. “That rascal must be covered with six-inch armor plate!”
“Curse the beast!” Commander Farragut shouted.
The hunt was on again, and Commander Farragut leaned over to me, saying:
“I’ll chase that animal till my frigate explodes!”
“Yes,” I replied, “and nobody would blame you!”
We could still hope that the animal would tire out. But no such luck. Hour after hour went by without it showing the least sign of weariness.
Night fell and wrapped the surging ocean in its shadows. By then I thought our expedition had come to an end, that we would never see this fantastic animal again. I was mistaken.
At 10:50 in the evening, that electric light reappeared, just as clear and intense as the night before. The narwhale seemed motionless. Was it asleep perhaps, weary from its workday, just riding with the waves? This was our chance, and Commander Farragut was determined to take full advantage of it. He gave his orders.
Ned Land went to resume his post. The frigate approached without making a sound, stopped two cable lengths from the animal. Not a soul breathed on board. A profound silence reigned over the deck.
Just then I saw Ned Land below me, one hand grasping the martingale, the other brandishing his dreadful harpoon. Barely twenty feet separated him from the motionless animal.
All at once his arm shot forward and the harpoon was launched. I heard the weapon collide resonantly, as if it had hit some hard substance.
The electric light suddenly went out, and two enormous waterspouts crashed onto the deck of the frigate, racing like a torrent, toppling crewmen, breaking masts.
A hideous collision occurred, and thrown over the rail, I was hurled into the sea.
Chapter 7
Although I was startled by this unexpected descent, I have a very clear recollection of my sensations during it.
At first I was dragged about twenty feet under. I’m a good swimmer, and I didn’t lose my head [21]on the way down. With two vigorous kicks, I came back to the surface of the sea.
My first concern was to look for the frigate. Had the crew seen me? Would Commander Farragut put a longboat to sea? Could I hope to be rescued?
The gloom was profound. I saw a black mass disappearing eastward, where its running lights were fading out in the distance. It was the frigate.
“Help! Help!” I shouted, swimming desperately toward the Abraham Lincoln.
My clothes were weighing me down. The water glued them to my body, it was paralyzing my movements. I was sinking! I was suffocating!
“Help!”
This was the last shout I gave. My mouth was filling with water.
Suddenly my clothes were seized by energetic hands, somebody pulled me abruptly back to the surface of the sea, and yes, I heard these words pronounced in my ear:
“If master would oblige me by leaning on my shoulder, master will swim with much greater ease.”
With one hand I seized the arm of my loyal Conseil.
“You!” I said. “You!”
“Myself,” Conseil replied, “and at master’s command.”
“That collision threw you overboard along with me?”
“Not at all. But I followed master.”
The fine lad!
“What about the frigate?” I asked.
“The frigate?” Conseil replied, rolling over on his back. “Just as I jumped overboard, I heard the men at the helm shout, ‘Our propeller and rudder are smashed!’”
“Smashed?”
“Yes, smashed by the monster’s tusk! I believe it’s the sole injury the Abraham Lincoln has sustained. But most inconveniently for us, the ship can no longer steer. However, we still have a few hours before us, and in a few hours one can do a great many things!”
Conseil’s composure cheered me up. I swam more vigorously.
Our circumstances were dreadful. Perhaps they hadn’t seen us go overboard; and even if they had, the frigate couldn’t return to leeward after us. So we could count only on its longboats.
I decided to divide our energies so we wouldn’t both be worn out at the same time: while one of us lay on his back, staying motionless with arms crossed and legs outstretched, the other would swim and propel his partner forward.
I calculated on eight hours of swimming until sunrise. A strenuous task, but feasible, thanks to our relieving each other. The sea was pretty smooth and barely tired us.
Near one o’clock in the morning, I was overcome with tremendous exhaustion. And I soon heard the poor Conseil gasping; his breathing became shallow and quick. I didn’t think he could stand such exertions for much longer.
“Go on! Go on!” I told him.
“Leave master behind?” he replied. “Never!”
The moon appeared. The surface of the sea glistened under its rays. I held up my head. I saw the frigate. It was five miles from us and formed a dark, barely perceptible mass. But as for longboats, not a one in sight!
I tried to call out. What was the use at such a distance! My swollen lips wouldn’t let a single sound through. Conseil could still articulate a few words, and I heard him repeat at intervals:
“Help! Help!”
We listened. And it may have been a ringing in my ear, but it seemed to me that Conseil’s shout had received an answer back.
“Did you hear that?” I muttered.
“Yes, yes!”
And Conseil hurled another desperate plea into space.
This time there could be no mistake! A human voice had answered us! Was it the voice of some other victim of that collision suffered by our ship? Or was it one of the frigate’s longboats, hailing us out of the gloom?
Conseil
conical shells – конические бомбы
I didn’t lose my head – я не растерялся