“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“All right then, if there are no other questions, let’s get the show on the road. We’ve got us a submarine to sanction. Dismissed.”
2
“Professor-”
“Please,” said the thin, elegantly dressed neatly bearded man, smiling in a self-effacing manner and holding up his hand. He spoke in English, but with a French accent. “While I am flattered at having a professorship thus conferred upon me, I do not merit the title. I am trained as an attorney. Besides, I am only thirty-eight years old. Being addressed as Professor makes me feel rather like a hoary academician.”
The reporter from The New York Times smiled. “All right, then. But you did write Mysteries of the Great Submarine Grounds, so let’s not be too modest about your reputation in academic circles.”
“Only in a somewhat obscure branch of natural history,” said the man, with a slight smile. He was all too well aware of how American reporters had a tendency to blow things out of proportion. One small, theoretical work, published in France in two slim volumes in an exceedingly small print run, and they were ready to seize upon it as an excuse to quote him as an expert. He had far too many friends in the scientific community and far too much respect for their accomplishments to want to be cast as a colleague on an equal footing.
“Well, we won’t split hairs,” said the reporter from The New York Times. “The point is you have been invited to represent your country on this expedition and obviously-”
“No, no, please,” said the man, looking pained. “Really, sir, you quite embarrass me. I beg you to communicate the details correctly to your readers, if only to spare me future discomfort when I arrive back home. In point of fact, the kind invitation from Secretary Hobson did mention your government would be pleased to see France represented in this enterprise, however, he was speaking purely as a matter of form, you understand. In truth, it was I who requested permission to sail with Commander Farragut aboard the Abraham Lincoln. I practically begged myself a berth. Your government was merely humoring a somewhat presumptuous novelist who only dabbles in scientific matters.”
“Nevertheless, Mr. Verne,” the reporter persisted, “the very fact your request was granted obviously indicates that your opinion as a ‘dabbler in scientific matters,’ as you say, is valued. In that context, surely you have some theories as to the nature of this phenomenon?”
“Well,” said Jules Verne, “I prefer to keep an open mind. However, I do have some ideas, and I stress that they are merely ideas, theories, you understand. We have, as yet, no empirical evidence to support them,
so making any sort of conclusions would be extremely premature.”
“Yes, well, what do you think it might be?” the reporter pressed him, anxious for a good quote.
Somewhat hesitantly, Verne replied. “After examining one by one the different theories, rejecting all nonsensical suggestions, it seems necessary to admit the possibility of the existence of a marine animal of enormous power.”
The reporters on the dock scribbled hastily.
“The great depths of the ocean are entirely unknown to us,” continued Verne. “Soundings cannot reach them. What passes in those remote depths-what beings live, or can live, twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface of the waters-is something we can scarcely conjecture. Either we do know all the varieties of beings which exist upon our planet or we do not. If we do not know them all, if Nature still has secrets in the deep for us, nothing is more conformable to reason than to admit the possibility of the existence of fishes or cetaceans or even of new species heretofore unknown inhabiting the regions inaccessible to soundings. It is certainly within the realm of possibility that an accident or an event of some sort has brought such a creature at long intervals to the upper levels of the ocean.”
“So you’re saying a sea monster, then?” said another man, from the Tribune, excitedly.
“No, sir, I said no such thing,” said Verne, carefully. “I merely said the possibility exists that there are creatures on the ocean floor belonging to species which have not as yet been discovered. If, on the other hand, such is not the case, which is also a possibility, we must necessarily seek for the animal in question amongst those marine beings already classed. In such a case, I should be disposed to suspect the existence of a gigantic narwhal.”
“What exactly is that, Professor?” one of the other reporters called out.
Verne winced slightly. “The common narwhal, or unicorn of the sea, is a large mammalian creature which often attains a length of sixty feet. Increase its size fivefold or tenfold, give it strength proportionate to its size and you will have the animal required. It will have the proportions determined by the officers of the Shannon.”
“So you’re saying it’s just a big whale and that’s all?” said the man from The New York Times, with some disappointment. “How would you account, then, for the sinking of the Scotia just last week?”
“I do not account for it,” said Verne. “I do not have access to all of the details. True, the last transmission from the Scotia did report the sighting of a ‘monster,’ however, we have no evidence suggesting it was this so-called monster which caused the sinking of the ship.”
“But suppose it was the monster,” the man from the Telegraph called out. “I mean, how could a whale sink a steamship? How do you account for the explosion witnessed by the Moravian from several miles away?”
“Well, so long as we all understand that what we are dealing with here is merely supposition,” Verne said, “we can suppose the narwhal-if it is a narwhal-might have caused the sinking. Such a creature would be more than just a big whale, as you say. The narwhal is armed with a sort of ivory sword, a halberd, according to the expression of certain naturalists. The principal tusk has the hardness of steel. Some of these tusks have been found buried in the bodies of whales. Others have been drawn out, not without trouble, from the bottoms of ships, which they had pierced through and through. The Museum of the Faculty of Medicine in Paris possesses one of these defensive weapons, two yards and a quarter in length and fifteen inches in diameter at the base. Very well.”-He paused for breath-”Suppose this weapon to be six times stronger and the animal ten times more powerful. Launch it at the rate of twenty miles an hour and you obtain a shock capable of producing the catastrophe required. As to the explosion, there is a better explanation for that than to imagine some sort of sea monster capable of breathing fire. Remember the Scotia was a munitions ship. Given an accident, something undoubtedly caused a fire on board, thereby resulting in the powerful explosion which the men of the Moravian saw from their great distance. Until further information, therefore, I shall be predisposed to suspect our phenomenon might be a sea-unicorn of colossal dimensions, armed not with a halberd, but with a real spur, as the armored frigates or the ‘rams’ of war, whose massiveness and motive power it would possess at the same time.”
“What about some of the other theories, Mr. Verne?” another reporter called out. “What about this business that it’s a floating island of some sort or maybe even a submarine boat?”
Verne chuckled. “Well, there have been quite a number of theories proposed, true, but I prefer to deal with rational scientific inquiry rather than wild speculation. Islands do not float. Rock and earth cannot float in water. Islands are simply the projecting tips of submerged land masses or mountains, if you will. Someone, as I recall, suggested that we could be confronted with the floating hull of some enormous wreck. While this may sound somewhat plausible upon the surface, this theory collapses under careful scrutiny. What would provide the motive power for this floating hull that would enable it to act in the manner described in the various sightings? Moreover, what would keep this hull afloat, if it were, indeed, a wreck?
“As to the question of a submarine boat, I must admit to being personally quite intrigued by such a possibility. However, keep in mind that a submarine vessel of such enormous power could hardly remain secret against inquiries made both here and abroad. That a private gentleman should have such a machine at his command, while smacking of romance, is certainly quite unlikely. Where, when, and how could it have been constructed? And how could its construction, ambitious an undertaking as it would have to be, be kept a secret? It is possible a government might possess such a destructive machine; however, it is quite unlikely in view of what we know of submarine boats coupled with the technological capabilities we have.
“Not to dismiss your question out of hand, sir,” Verne continued, “consider the history of the so-called submersible boat. Alexander the Great is said to have had himself lowered into the sea while encased in a barrel of glass. Leonardo da Vinci also experimented with the idea of an undersea craft. In the 16th century, an English carpenter named William Bourne designed a submersible boat, but was unable to provide it with any means of propulsion. Drebbel likewise constructed several watertight boats capable of being submerged and propelled by means of oars, with air supplied by tubes reaching to the surface. Not a very practical device. The first real step in the development of submarine boats occurred during your American Revolution, when Colonel David Bushnell built his Turtle, which rather resembled two large turtle shells joined together. Propulsion was achieved by means of a crude hand crank, which turned a propellor. It was quite an ambitious device.
“In order to submerge, the vessel’s lone crewman operated a valve which would let water into a ballast tank. To reverse the procedure, the water was pumped out. A pair of brass tubes admitted fresh air into the vessel and, upon submergence, these tubes were closed with cork valves. That would leave enough air inside to allow for a submerged period of some thirty minutes. The purpose of the vessel was to approach British ships unseen and attach an explosive device to their hulls by means of a screw device. However, the Turtle never succeeded in its task, was slow and crude in the extreme and subject to navigational problems due to the effect of currents. Now this was the first practical submarine boat for which any record exists. The second was also built by an American, your Mr. Robert Fulton, of steamboat fame.
“In 1800, he designed and built the Nautilus, expanding upon the same basic principles developed by Bushnell. He was unable to gain support in the United States, so he came to my country and tried to interest Napoleon in his vessel. He was given some funds, with which he managed to stage a demonstration in which he successfully sank a wreck placed at his disposal. However, Napoleon branded it a dishonorable device and, fearing that Napoleon intended to steal the Nautilus, Fulton destroyed it. He then tried to interest England. He failed there, as well. At that point, he apparently gav