No crew of the American navy had ever shown more patience or zeal; its want of success could not be imputed to it. There was nothing left to do but to return.
A representation in this sense was made to the commander. The commander kept his ground. The sailors did not hide their dissatisfaction, and the service suffered from it. I do not mean that there was revolt on board, but after a reasonable period of obstinacy the commander, like Columbus before him, asked for three days’ patience. If in three days the monster had not reappeared, the man at the helm should give three turns of the wheel, and the Abraham Lincoln should make for the European seas.
Two days passed. The frigate kept up steam at half-pressure. Large quantities of bacon were trailed in the wake of the ship, to the great satisfaction of the sharks. The frigate lay to, and her boats were sent in all directions, but the night of the 4th of November passed without unveiling the submarine mystery.
Japan lay less than 200 miles to leeward. Eight bells had just struck as I was leaning over the starboard side. Conseil, standing near me, was looking straight in front of him. The crew, perched in the ratlins, were keeping a sharp look-out in the approaching darkness. Officers with their night-glasses swept the horizon.
Looking at Conseil, I saw that the brave fellow was feeling slightly the general influence – at least it seemed to me so. Perhaps for the first time, his nerves were vibrating under the action of a sentiment of curiosity.
‘Well, Conseil,’ said I, ‘this is your last chance of pocketing 2000 dollars.’
‘Will monsieur allow me to tell him that I never counted upon the reward, and if the Union had promised 100,000 dollars it would never be any the poorer.’
‘You are right, Conseil. It has been a stupid affair, after all. We have lost time and patience, and might just as well have been in France six months ago.’
‘Yes, in monsieur’s little apartments, classifying monsieur’s fossils, and monsieur’s babiroussa would be in its cage in the Jardin des Plantes, attracting all the curious people in Paris.’
‘Yes, Conseil, and besides that we shall get well laughed at.’
‘Certainly,’ said Conseil tranquilly. ‘I think they will laugh at monsieur. And I must say—’
‘What, Conseil?’
‘That it will serve monsieur right! When one has the honour to be a savant like monsieur, one does not expose—’
Conseil did not finish his compliment. In the midst of general silence Ned Land’s voice was heard calling out, –
‘Look out, there! The thing we are looking for is on our weather beam!’
At this cry the entire crew rushed towards the harpooner. Captain, officers, masters, sailors, and cabin-boys, even the engineers left their engines, and the stokers their fires. The order to stop her had been given, and the frigate was only moving by her own momentum. The darkness was then profound, and although I knew the Canadian’s eyes were very good, I asked myself what he could have seen, and how he could have seen it. My heart beat violently.
At two cables’ length from the Abraham Lincoln on her starboard quarter, the sea seemed to be illuminated below the surface. The monster lay some fathoms below the sea, and threw out the very intense but inexplicable light mentioned in the reports of several captains. This light described an immense and much-elongated oval, in the centre of which was condensed a focus the over-powering brilliancy of which died out by successive gradations.
‘It is only an agglomeration of phosphoric particles,’ cried one of the officers.
‘No, sir,’ I replied with conviction. ‘Never did pholas or salpae produce such a light as that. That light is essentially electric. Besides – see! look out! It moves – forward – on to us!’
A general cry rose from the frigate.
‘Silence!’ called out the captain. ‘Up with the helm! Reverse the engines!’
The frigate thus tried to escape, but the supernatural animal approached her with a speed double her own.
Stupefaction, more than fear, kept us mute and motionless. The animal gained upon us. It made the round of the frigate, which was then going at the rate of fourteen knots, and enveloped her with its electric ring like luminous dust. Then it went two or three miles off, leaving a phosphoric trail like the steam of an express locomotive. All at once, from the dark limits of the horizon, where it went to gain its momentum, the monster rushed towards the frigate with frightful rapidity, stopped suddenly at a distance of twenty feet, and then went out, not diving, for its brilliancy did not die out by degrees, but all at once, as if turned off. Then it reappeared on the other side of the ship, either going round her or gliding under her hull. A collision might have occurred at any moment, which might have been fatal to us.
I was astonished at the way the ship was worked. She was being attacked instead of attacking; and I asked Captain Farragut the reason. On the captain’s generally impassive face was an expression of profound astonishment.
‘M. Aronnax,’ he said, ‘I do not know with how formidable a being I have to deal, and I will not imprudently risk my frigate in the darkness. We must wait for daylight, and then we shall change parts.’
‘You have no longer any doubt, captain, of the nature of the animal?’
‘No, sir. It is evidently a gigantic narwhal, and an electric one too.’
‘Perhaps,’ I added, ‘we can no more approach it than we could a gymnotus or a torpedo.’
‘It may possess as great blasting properties, and if it does it is the most terrible animal that ever was created. That is why I must keep on my guard.’
All the crew remained up that night. No one thought of going to sleep. The Abraham Lincoln not being able to compete in speed, was kept under half-steam. On its side the narwhal imitated the frigate, let the waves rock it at will, and seemed determined not to leave the scene of combat.
Towards midnight, however, it disappeared, dying out like a large glowworm. At seven minutes to one in the morning a deafening whistle was heard, like that produced by a column of water driven out with extreme violence.
The captain, Ned Land, and I were then on the poop, peering with eagerness through the profound darkness.
‘Ned Land,’ asked the commander, ‘have you often heard whales roar?’
‘Yes, captain, often; but never such a whale as I earned 2000 dollars by sighting.’
‘True, you have a right to the prize; but tell me, is it the same noise they make?’
‘Yes, sir; but this one is incomparably louder. It is not to be mistaken. It is certainly a cetacean there in our seas. With your permission, sir, we will have a few words with him at daybreak.’
‘If he is in a humour to hear them, Mr Land,’ said I, in an unconvinced tone.
‘Let me get within a length of four
