Chapter 5
CHAPTER V. AT RANDOM. For some while the voyage of the Abraham Lincoln was marked by no incident, but one circumstance arose that displayed Nedland's marvelous skills and showed just how much confidence we could place in him. Off the Falkland Islands on June 30th, the frigate came in contact with a fleet of American
whalers, and we learned that they hadn't seen the Narwhal. But one of them, the captain of the Monroe, knew that Nedland had shipped aboard the Abraham Lincoln and asked his help in hunting a baleen whale that was in sight. Anxious to see Nedland 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 Nedland's harpoon, I wouldn't bet on the monster.
The frigate sailed along the east coast of South America with prodigious speed. By July 3rd we were at the entrance to the Strait of Magellan, abreast of Cabo de las Virginas. But Commander Farragut was unwilling to attempt this torturous passageway and maneuvered instead to double Cape Horn.
The crew sided with him unanimously. Indeed, were we likely to encounter the Narwhal 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 3 o'clock in the afternoon on July 6th, 15 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 Horn. Our course was set for the northwest, and the next day our frigate's propeller finally turned 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 spy glasses, a bit dazzled, it is true, by the vista of $2,000, didn't remain at rest for an instant. Day and night we observed the surface of the ocean, and those with nyctolopic eyes,
whose ability to see in the dark increased their chances by 50%, 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 folk's sole railings, sometimes leaning against the stern rail, I eagerly scoured that cotton-colored wake that widened 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 cows 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 Quincey, 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. 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. Nedland 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 Aronax, 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 narwhal'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 narwhal appearing, and soon. On July 20th, 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 boasts instead, 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. 28, nobody slept. Twenty times a day, some error in perception, or the optical illusions of some sailor perched in the cross trees, 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 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 narwhal, 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 room 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 than zeal.
They weren't responsible for this failure. There's 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 2nd. 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. Spy glasses functioned with feverish energy.
A supreme challenge had been issued to the giant narwhal and the latter had no acceptable excuse for ignoring the summons to appear. Two days passed. The Abraham Lincoln stayed at half steam. On the off chance 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 too, its longboats radiated in every direction around it and didn't leave a single point of the sea unexplored.
But the evening of November 4th arrived with this underwater mystery still unsolved. At noon the next day, November 5th, the agreed upon delay expired. After a position fixed 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 stem post.
Just then I was in the bow, leaning over the starboard rail. Konsei, stationed beside me, stared straight ahead. Roosting in the shrouds, the crew examined the horizon, which shrank and darkened little by little. The clouds were probing the increasing gloom with their night glasses.
Sometimes the murky oceans sparkled beneath moonbeams that darted between the fringes of two clouds. Then all traces of light vanished into the darkness. Observing Konsei, 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, Konsei, I told him. Here's your last chance to pocket that two thousand dollars. If Master will permit my saying so, Konsei replied, I never expected to win that prize,
and the Union government could have promised one hundred thousand dollars and been none the poorer. You're right, Konsei. 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, Konsei answered, in Master's museum. And by now I would have classified Master's fossils. And Master's Bobby Rusa 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, Konsei, and what's more, I imagine the people will soon be poking fun at us. To be sure, Konsei replied serenely, I do think they'll have fun at Master's expense. And must it be said? It must be said, Konsei.
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 – Konsei didn't have time to complete the compliment. And in the midst of the general silence a voice became audible.
It was Ned Land's voice, and it shouted, Ahoy! There's a thing in question, abreast of us to Leeward. End of chapter 5
