##At Random!

For some while the voyage of the Abraham Lincoln was marked by
no incident.  But one circumstance arose that displayed Ned Land's
marvelous skills and showed just how much confidence we could
place in him.

Off the Falkland Islands on June 30, the frigate came in contact
with a fleet of American whalers, and we learned that they hadn't
seen the narwhale.  But one of them, the captain of the Monroe,
knew that Ned Land had shipped aboard the Abraham Lincoln
and asked his help in hunting a baleen whale that was in sight.
Anxious to see Ned Land at work, Commander Farragut authorized him
to make his way aboard the Monroe.  And the Canadian had such good luck
that with a right-and-left shot, he harpooned not one whale but two,
striking the first straight to the heart and catching the other
after a few minutes' chase!

Assuredly, if the monster ever had to deal with Ned Land's harpoon,
I wouldn't bet on the monster.

The frigate sailed along the east coast of South America with
prodigious speed.  By July 3 we were at the entrance to the Strait
of Magellan, abreast of Cabo de las Virgenes.  But Commander Farragut
was unwilling to attempt this tortuous passageway and maneuvered
instead to double Cape Horn.

The crew sided with him unanimously.  Indeed, were we
likely to encounter the narwhale in such a cramped strait?
Many of our sailors swore that the monster couldn't negotiate this
passageway simply because "he's too big for it!"

Near three o'clock in the afternoon on July 6, fifteen miles south
of shore, the Abraham Lincoln doubled that solitary islet at the tip
of the South American continent, that stray rock Dutch seamen had
named Cape Horn after their hometown of Hoorn.  Our course was set
for the northwest, and the next day our frigate's propeller finally
churned the waters of the Pacific.

"Open your eyes!  Open your eyes!" repeated the sailors of
the Abraham Lincoln.

And they opened amazingly wide.  Eyes and spyglasses (a bit dazzled,
it is true, by the vista of $2,000.00) didn't remain at rest for
an instant.  Day and night we observed the surface of the ocean,
and those with nyctalopic eyes, whose ability to see in the dark
increased their chances by fifty percent, had an excellent shot
at winning the prize.

As for me, I was hardly drawn by the lure of money and yet was far from
the least attentive on board.  Snatching only a few minutes for meals
and a few hours for sleep, come rain or come shine, I no longer left
the ship's deck.  Sometimes bending over the forecastle railings,
sometimes leaning against the sternrail, I eagerly scoured that
cotton-colored wake that whitened the ocean as far as the eye could see!
And how many times I shared the excitement of general staff and crew
when some unpredictable whale lifted its blackish back above the waves.
In an instant the frigate's deck would become densely populated.
The cowls over the companionways would vomit a torrent of sailors
and officers.  With panting chests and anxious eyes, we each would
observe the cetacean's movements.  I stared; I stared until I nearly
went blind from a worn-out retina, while Conseil, as stoic as ever,
kept repeating to me in a calm tone:

"If master's eyes would kindly stop bulging, master will see farther!"

But what a waste of energy!  The Abraham Lincoln would change
course and race after the animal sighted, only to find an ordinary
baleen whale or a common sperm whale that soon disappeared amid
a chorus of curses!

![I eagerly scoured that cotton-colored wake that whitened the ocean as far as the eye could see!][1]

However, the weather held good.  Our voyage was proceeding under
the most favorable conditions.  By then it was the bad season
in these southernmost regions, because July in this zone corresponds
to our January in Europe; but the sea remained smooth and easily
visible over a vast perimeter.

Ned Land still kept up the most tenacious skepticism; beyond his
spells on watch, he pretended that he never even looked at
the surface of the waves, at least while no whales were in sight.
And yet the marvelous power of his vision could have performed
yeoman service.  But this stubborn Canadian spent eight
hours out of every twelve reading or sleeping in his cabin.
A hundred times I chided him for his unconcern.

"Bah!" he replied.  "Nothing's out there, Professor Aronnax,
and if there is some animal, what chance would we have of spotting it?
Can't you see we're just wandering around at random?  People say
they've sighted this slippery beast again in the Pacific high seas--
I'm truly willing to believe it, but two months have already gone
by since then, and judging by your narwhale's personality, it hates
growing moldy from hanging out too long in the same waterways!
It's blessed with a terrific gift for getting around.
Now, professor, you know even better than I that nature doesn't
violate good sense, and she wouldn't give some naturally slow animal
the ability to move swiftly if it hadn't a need to use that talent.
So if the beast does exist, it's already long gone!"

I had no reply to this.  Obviously we were just groping blindly.
But how else could we go about it?  All the same, our chances were
automatically pretty limited.  Yet everyone still felt confident
of success, and not a sailor on board would have bet against
the narwhale appearing, and soon.

On July 20 we cut the Tropic of Capricorn at longitude 105
degrees, and by the 27th of the same month, we had cleared
the equator on the 110th meridian.  These bearings determined,
the frigate took a more decisive westward heading and tackled
the seas of the central Pacific.  Commander Farragut felt,
and with good reason, that it was best to stay in deep waters and
keep his distance from continents or islands, whose neighborhoods
the animal always seemed to avoid--"No doubt," our bosun said,
"because there isn't enough water for him!"  So the frigate kept
well out when passing the Tuamotu, Marquesas, and Hawaiian Islands,
then cut the Tropic of Cancer at longitude 132 degrees and headed
for the seas of China.

We were finally in the area of the monster's latest antics!
And in all honesty, shipboard conditions became life-threatening.
Hearts were pounding hideously, gearing up for futures full
of incurable aneurysms.  The entire crew suffered from a nervous
excitement that it's beyond me to describe.  Nobody ate, nobody slept.
Twenty times a day some error in perception, or the optical
illusions of some sailor perched in the crosstrees, would cause
intolerable anguish, and this emotion, repeated twenty times over,
kept us in a state of irritability so intense that a reaction was
bound to follow.

And this reaction wasn't long in coming.  For three months,
during which each day seemed like a century, the Abraham Lincoln plowed
all the northerly seas of the Pacific, racing after whales sighted,
abruptly veering off course, swerving sharply from one tack to another,
stopping suddenly, putting on steam and reversing engines in quick
succession, at the risk of stripping its gears, and it didn't leave
a single point unexplored from the beaches of Japan to the coasts
of America.  And we found nothing!  Nothing except an immenseness
of deserted waves!  Nothing remotely resembling a gigantic narwhale,
or an underwater islet, or a derelict shipwreck, or a runaway reef,
or anything the least bit unearthly!

So the reaction set in.  At first, discouragement took hold of
people's minds, opening the door to disbelief.  A new feeling appeared
on board, made up of three-tenths shame and seven-tenths fury.
The crew called themselves "out-and-out fools" for being
hoodwinked by a fairy tale, then grew steadily more furious!
The mountains of arguments amassed over a year collapsed all at once,
and each man now wanted only to catch up on his eating and sleeping,
to make up for the time he had so stupidly sacrificed.

With typical human fickleness, they jumped from one extreme
to the other.  Inevitably, the most enthusiastic supporters
of the undertaking became its most energetic opponents.
This reaction mounted upward from the bowels of the ship, from the
quarters of the bunker hands to the messroom of the general staff;
and for certain, if it hadn't been for Commander Farragut's
characteristic stubbornness, the frigate would ultimately have put
back to that cape in the south.

But this futile search couldn't drag on much longer.
The Abraham Lincoln had done everything it could to succeed and
had no reason to blame itself.  Never had the crew of an American
naval craft shown more patience and zeal; they weren't responsible
for this failure; there was nothing to do but go home.

A request to this effect was presented to the commander.
The commander stood his ground.  His sailors couldn't hide
their discontent, and their work suffered because of it.
I'm unwilling to say that there was mutiny on board, but after
a reasonable period of intransigence, Commander Farragut,
like Christopher Columbus before him, asked for a grace period
of just three days more.  After this three-day delay, if the monster
hadn't appeared, our helmsman would give three turns of the wheel,
and the Abraham Lincoln would chart a course toward European seas.

This promise was given on November 2.  It had the immediate effect
of reviving the crew's failing spirits.  The ocean was observed
with renewed care.  Each man wanted one last look with which to sum
up his experience.  Spyglasses functioned with feverish energy.
A supreme challenge had been issued to the giant narwhale, and the latter
had no acceptable excuse for ignoring this Summons to Appear!

Two days passed.  The Abraham Lincoln stayed at half steam.
On the offchance that the animal might be found in these waterways,
a thousand methods were used to spark its interest or rouse it
from its apathy.  Enormous sides of bacon were trailed in our wake,
to the great satisfaction, I must say, of assorted sharks.
While the Abraham Lincoln heaved to, its longboats radiated
in every direction around it and didn't leave a single point
of the sea unexplored.  But the evening of November 4 arrived
with this underwater mystery still unsolved.

![Searching for the Mysterious Monster][2]

At noon the next day, November 5, the agreed-upon delay expired.
After a position fix, true to his promise, Commander Farragut would
have to set his course for the southeast and leave the northerly
regions of the Pacific decisively behind.

By then the frigate lay in latitude 31 degrees 15' north and longitude
136 degrees 42' east.  The shores of Japan were less than 200 miles
to our leeward.  Night was coming on.  Eight o'clock had just struck.
Huge clouds covered the moon's disk, then in its first quarter.
The sea undulated placidly beneath the frigate's stempost.

Just then I was in the bow, leaning over the starboard rail.
Conseil, stationed beside me, stared straight ahead.
Roosting in the shrouds, the crew examined the horizon, which shrank
and darkened little by little.  Officers were probing the increasing
gloom with their night glasses.  Sometimes the murky ocean sparkled
beneath moonbeams that darted between the fringes of two clouds.
Then all traces of light vanished into the darkness.

Observing Conseil, I discovered that, just barely, the gallant lad
had fallen under the general influence.  At least so I thought.
Perhaps his nerves were twitching with curiosity for the first
time in history.

"Come on, Conseil!"  I told him.  "Here's your last chance to
pocket that $2,000.00!"

"If master will permit my saying so," Conseil replied, "I never
expected to win that prize, and the Union government could have
promised $100,000.00 and been none the poorer."

"You're right, Conseil, it turned out to be a foolish business
after all, and we jumped into it too hastily.  What a waste of time,
what a futile expense of emotion!  Six months ago we could have been
back in France--"

"In master's little apartment," Conseil answered.  "In master's museum!
And by now I would have classified master's fossils.
And master's babirusa would be ensconced in its cage at the zoo
in the Botanical Gardens, and it would have attracted every curiosity
seeker in town!"

"Quite so, Conseil, and what's more, I imagine that people will soon
be poking fun at us!"

"To be sure," Conseil replied serenely, "I do think they'll have fun
at master's expense.  And must it be said . . . ?"

"It must be said, Conseil."

"Well then, it will serve master right!"

"How true!"

"When one has the honor of being an expert as master is, one mustn't
lay himself open to--"

Conseil didn't have time to complete the compliment.
In the midst of the general silence, a voice became audible.
It was Ned Land's voice, and it shouted:

"Ahoy!  There's the thing in question, abreast of us to leeward!"

[1]: source/verne_undersea/img/7.jpg
[2]: source/verne_undersea/img/8.jpg

