The Mammoth Book of New Jules Verne Adventures (31 page)

Taking his brother’s arm, Jules Verne moved towards the egress of Barnum & Van Amburgh’s Museum, and the night air beyond. Already, in his mind, Jules Verne was imagining a wondrous new procession of tomorrows . . . and fictional characters arrayed before him in an infinite range of tableaux.

THE SECRET OF THE NAUTILUS  by Michael Mallory

Even before he went to New York, Verne was thinking about his next book, which had the working tide
Un Voyage sous les Éaux,
but it was not until he returned that he had the time to develop it. The result would arguably be his best book, probably his best known, and certainly with his most famous character: Captain Nemo in
Vingt Mille Lieues sous les Mers — 20,000 Leagues Under the
Sea (1869/70). Verne had  to revise his original draft because Nemo had become too strong a character, too full of revenge, aimed solely at the Russian Empire, because of their treatment of the Polish. Hetzel persuaded Verne to tone down this hatred and make Nemo more of a Robin Hood character who fought against all oppressors. Hetzel was probably right because Verne made Nemo far more enigmatic, a mystery man whose origins and motives are not entirely known or understood. This gave him a fascination that has intrigued readers ever since. Even Verne could not leave him alone as he brought him back in a sequel,
L’île mystérieuse,
in 1874.

Perhaps equalling Nemo for fascination in the story is his creation, the submarine
Nautilus.
There was nothing new in describing a submarine — they had existed for many years and the inventor Robert Fulton had even named his
Nautilus
in 1797. But none were like Verne’s
remarkable
machine, powered by electricity, and with every comfort, able to tour the entire underwater domain. A vengeful enigmatic commander with his all powerful invention was a successful formula that not only Verne would exploit again, but which has become a staple figure in science fiction and techno-thrillers ever since. We will encounter both Nemo and the
Nautilus
again in this anthology.

November 23, 1894

As I take up my pen to record these events of the past, I consider how many times I have previously sat down to do so, only to reconsider and crumple up the first page without bothering to go on to the second. Perhaps this account will be dismissed as fiction; perhaps it will go unnoticed altogether. I have no control over any of those eventualities; I am but the teller of the tale. As to whom I am, it is of little consequence. Were I to release my name, the reader might indeed recognize it, but that knowledge will add to neither the truthfulness nor the strangeness of the story. I am not the hero of this particular tale; rather, it is a man of remarkable abilities and intellectual capacity, a man known to the world as Captain Nemo.

How I came to be in the service of Captain Nemo is as immaterial to this history as my identity. Suffice it to say that I became a crewman in his submersible vehicle, the
Argonaut,
in the year 1876, during my twenty-sixth summer. Those familiar with two popular literary works in which Captain Nemo appears may protest that his great sub-aquatic vessel was not called the
Argonaut,
but the
Nautilus,
and they would be right, at least in part. They may also feel that they know the history of this amazing personage, but as I discovered during my time with the captain, the written record as it has existed up until now constitutes a deliberate fabrication. Until now, the truth about Captain Nemo has never been set down.

The most remarkable adventure of my life began in late August of that year, when Captain Nemo and I had consigned First Mate Willett to his Maker at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. Willett and I represented the sole crew of the
Argonaut,
which was a much smaller vessel than the
Nautilus,
and his untimely demise — not, ironically, the result of one of the sea’s inherent dangers, but rather a burst appendix — cast a pall over the ship, so much so that when Captain Nemo appeared before me several days later with expression graver than any I had yet encountered, I initially assumed it was a late reaction to the tragedy. That, however, was not the case.

“Louis, we are changing course immediately,” he announced. “We will be heading for latitude 150° 30’ and longitude 34° 57’.”

“Where is that, sir?” I asked.

“The site of a former land mass in the South Pacific. I only pray I am not too late.”

“Too late for what, Captain?”

I could see a thunderhead forming on his face, and began to fear that my rampant curiosity, which occasionally served to annoy this man of indecipherable moods, was about to raise his ire. Within a moment, however, the storm passed.

“You might as well know,” he said, sombrely. “The time may come when I am in need of your assistance in this matter. Come with me while I reset our course.”

I followed him to the ship’s navigational room and, not for the first time, marveled at the directional system he had installed, which literally steered the submersible through the depths of the ocean in automated fashion, based on his calculations. While the system’s finer working points were known only to the captain, I knew that it operated on the same mechanical principle as a music box, with a slowly revolving cylinder that held movable and removable dots that, depending on their placement, controlled the instruments that governed depth, speed and direction. I waited until he was finished, at which time he astonished me by inviting me to join him in his private study, as though I were an equal on board the
Argonaut!
After offering me a cigar made from seaweed, which I declined, he lit one of his own, savoured the greenish smoke, and began. “As of this moment, Louis, we are in pursuit of a man named Ludovico Divenchy,” he said. “Have you heard that surname before?”

As he pronounced it —
DEE-von-SHEE —
I was not familiar with it, and said so.

“The name is a modern derivation of the original spelling, which might be more familiar to you:
da Vinci.”

“You mean, as in Leonardo da Vinci?” I asked.

“I do, though you will not find the Divenchy branch of the family on any official records. The spelling and pronunciation was altered by the grandfather of Ludovico Divenchy, and subsequently retained by Ludovico’s father Beniamino and his brother Cesaré. They alone know of the family connection.”

“How, then did you learn of such things, Captain?”

“I should think that would be obvious, based on what I have told you.”

“You mean, you are . . . ?”

“I am Cesaré Divenchy,” he acknowledged, “and the man we are pursuing is my brother.”

I sat stunned at this revelation. “What has he done?”

“What I have prayed was not possible, even by my brother, whose knowledge of engineering surpasses my own, despite his youth,” he replied. “He has raised the
Nautilus
from its place of rest, that is what he has done. The signal sounded this morning.”

“Signal?” I uttered, now hopelessly lost.

“Before sinking the
Nautilus,
I installed on its dorsal fin a device that operates on the principles of electro-magnetic waves. The wave it emits is contained underwater, but in the open air it is programmed to sends a message to a receiver, which I keep here on board the
Argonaut.
Receipt of that signal means that the
Nautilus
has surfaced, and there are only two men in the world with the knowledge to facilitate it. Since I have not, it has to be Ludovico. Believe me, Louis, it is in the best interest of mankind to keep the
Nautilus
hidden at the bottom of the ocean.”

“But why?”

“Because of what it contains. Buried within the
Nautilus
is the body of my father, Beniamino Divenchy. Not only does he rest there, but his legacy is there as well — a legacy for which the world is not ready.”

“I do not understand, sir,” I said.

“How lucky you are, Louis,” Captain Nemo said ruefully, “for understanding my father and the consequences of his work has not offered me many peaceful days. Father was a scientist, and a brilliant one, but he did not so much leave footsteps as craters which were impossible to fill, at least by me. It was as though there were two men co-existing within his body: one of them benevolent and caring, and the other driven by his work to the point of inhumanity. Ludovico inherited Father’s driven side. He was brash and daring, never for one second doubting himself, even as a child. For that reason, Father favoured him at all times. I say this without bitterness, for I was quite content upon the day I could be free of them both. As a young man I travelled the world; I wed a beautiful Nepalese woman and had two wonderful children; I had little to do with my father and brother, until the association was forced upon me.”

“Forced by whom?” I asked.

“By those who wanted my father’s discovery.” He rose and began to pace in agitated fashion. “You may see fit to call me mad, Louis, but what I am about to tell you is the truth. My father discovered a way to make gold. I do not mean earn gold, I mean
make
it, create it from a base element.”

“He found the Philosopher’s Stone?” I gasped.

The captain shook his head impatiently. “There is no such thing. The transmutation of iron into gold is a chemical reaction involving extreme heat and molecular bombardment.”

“What a boon to mankind that could be!” I enthused.

Captain Nemo smiled sardonically. “So it might seem. So father wished. Alas, there was a dangerous side to it. Through Ludovico’s indiscretion, word of my father’s discovery filtered out. Most refused to believe it; however a few dangerous and powerful men sought to verify the rumour, and did so. Once confirmed, these men never gave us a moment’s peace, they hounded us for father’s notes.” He sat back down and regarded me through sorrow-filled eyes. “I was the weak link in the chain of familial stubbornness because I had a family. I took my wife and children out of Italy, but no matter where we went, we were pursued by these evil men. Eventually we fled to India, a country we loved, but were soon discovered. These human monsters did not even try for me. Instead they went straight for my innocent family. They murdered my wife and babes in cold blood and over their precious bodies told me to go to my father and tell him that they would not be deterred in their campaign to gain the secret of transmutation.”

After swallowing down a lump in his throat, the captain continued: “I did travel back to my father to deliver a message, but not the one my tormentors were expecting. I told him Cesaré Divenchy was dead, murdered as thoroughly as my wife and children. I told him I cared not if he also died at the hands of these criminals. And then I forcibly expelled him from his own laboratory and used his damnable discovery for my own good. I worked for two full days, never stopping to eat or sleep, the heat of the forge searing my flesh, until I had created enough gold to buy the city of Rome. I’d have made even more, had not Father summoned Ludovico to the house and told him to break down the door.”

The captain again fell silent, casting the cabin into an eerie stillness. At last he continued: “I left him, not caring a lira for his fate, took my gold and used it to finance the
Nautilus
and my escape from the world. Six years later he came to me, ill, weary and disillusioned, a broken relic of a once indomitable figure. He was tired of being pursued and knew there was only one place he could truly hide: on board the
Nautilus.
I dismissed my crew and took him in, and for the first time began to develop something of a filial relationship with my father. I took the
Nautilus
to an uncharted island in the South Pacific and vowed to remain there with him, hidden from the eyes of the world. And then the impossible happened: that infernal balloon filled with castaways landed on the island! I wanted to go elsewhere, but Father would not hear of it. By then the admirable side of his personality had gained dominance over the dark side, and he wished only to help others. It was he who aided the castaways while I remained in the shadows.

“After three interminable years of blundering about, they made their way into the
Nautilus.
By then, my father was dying, and in his last moments on earth he managed to put forth the greatest prevarication of his life: he claimed that
he
was Captain Nemo. He spun a fabrication of his supposed early days as Prince Dakkar, which, despite glaring inconsistencies, the fools accepted without question. On his deathbed, Father created a lie to throw our constant pursuers, who had begun to suspect that the missing Cesaré Divenchy was Captain Nemo, off the trail. He thought only of protecting me, and thus died for me. I secretly recovered everything I needed from the
Nautilus
and then sent it down to become the grave for both my father and his papers. How I hated to consign my glorious ship to oblivion. I went on to build the
Argonaut,
which is smaller, less personal, harder to love, but which has given me ten years of peace. Until now.”