Part 31 (1/2)

Aboard the Nautilus Nautilus, the crew sank into a heartsick silence. The men from a hodgepodge of countries and cultures drew closer together than ever, unified by their circ.u.mstances and their losses. They performed their duties like the walking dead, all hope of happiness lost in one cruel stroke of fate.

Feeling hollow, Nemo stood at the bridge, gripping the metal rail. Finally, out of desperation, he gave the order to depart from the Turkish coast, taking painful memories with him and leaving nothing else behind. With engines at half power, the Nautilus Nautilus cruised away from the ugly scar of Rurapente. cruised away from the ugly scar of Rurapente.

He vowed never to return. Never. He'd had enough of warfare, suffering, and death. He wanted nothing to do with humanity's bloodshed and cruelty.

As the ocean folded over the underwater boat, he stared into the blue-green wilderness. Every time he encountered people, every time he tried to make peace with society and live with his fellow man, the results were disastrous.

He thought of the pirates attacking the Coralie Coralie. . . . They had killed Captain Grant and stranded him for years on the desert island. Then he'd traveled across Africa and been captured by slavers. Next, he'd experienced the horrors of the Crimean War, and then lived as the prisoner of a murderous caliph . . . which caused him to lose Caroline in the bargain. And he'd just seen what had happened to Rurapente, to Auda and Jules.

Fate hadn't claimed their wives and children: People had. Warmongers. Warmongers.

For years Robur had extolled dreams of benign technological superiority for the benefit of his people. But the Nautilus Nautilus had been designed for no purpose other than war. The caliph had meant to terrorize peaceful sailing vessels and extort a ransom for all trade entering the Red Sea. had been designed for no purpose other than war. The caliph had meant to terrorize peaceful sailing vessels and extort a ransom for all trade entering the Red Sea.

After so much time, Nemo remained appalled at the ability of men to cause pain and suffering. Certain men were bred to be bloodthirsty killers, and they brought crimson shadows to the entire world. Violent conflict had always been abhorrent to him, and now his hatred of it grew even worse.

He had lost so much already.

The sub-marine boat cruised through the Mediterranean, as if in a daze itself. The crew remained withdrawn for days, eating just enough food to keep themselves alive. They had no goal now, no destination. Their dreams of utopia with their families had died along with Rurapente. . . .

Nemo considered abandoning the sub-marine boat, returning to Paris, and trying to recapture peace in the arms of Caroline. Surely she would welcome him again, though it had been so long, so many years. Jules Verne had said she still refused to remarry.

But in his moments of solitude he could imagine only the death cries of Auda and his young son. He could not bear to rush back to Caroline as if nothing had happened, as if he intended to forget his wife and boy. The thought of trying to fit in with French society terrified him.

Nemo tried to salve his grief by staring for hours upon end at the bliss beneath the seas. He never wanted to leave here, never wanted to face any aspect of war again. But even as he hid under the sea, warmongers continued their painful march across the canvas of history. No one would ever stop them.

None of the men even suggested heading for their respective countries. Nemo did not want to return to the world at all. He was through with mankind. He would let the so-called ”civilized” people continue their vicious fighting until they learned their own lessons. . . .

Days later, at the height of his anguish, it occurred to Nemo that he could could strike back, that he need not spend his days in pa.s.sive misery. The strike back, that he need not spend his days in pa.s.sive misery. The Nautilus Nautilus itself was a tremendous weapon. It had been designed to inflict terror upon other s.h.i.+ps sailing the seas. But while Caliph Robur had intended to prey upon merchant s.h.i.+ps or peaceful travelers, Nemo realized he could use the sub-marine boat against another kind of vessel. itself was a tremendous weapon. It had been designed to inflict terror upon other s.h.i.+ps sailing the seas. But while Caliph Robur had intended to prey upon merchant s.h.i.+ps or peaceful travelers, Nemo realized he could use the sub-marine boat against another kind of vessel.

Wars.h.i.+ps.

He could sink navy craft filled with weaponry -- battles.h.i.+ps whose only aim was to wage war. In so doing, he could prevent the slaughter of innocents, stop wars.h.i.+ps in their tracks, and sink their deadly cargoes to the bottom of the sea.

He could make a difference, and only the guilty need pay the ultimate price.

Nemo felt no loyalty to any particular nation. He had seen patriotism used as an excuse for further bloodshed, and he wanted none of it. No more innocents must die -- even if that meant he he had to strike against the murderous ones, the invaders, the soldiers. The warmongers. had to strike against the murderous ones, the invaders, the soldiers. The warmongers.

With the Nautilus Nautilus, Nemo could declare war on war itself on war itself.

vii

As chance would have it, the first battles.h.i.+p they encountered flew the Union Jack of the British Empire. With running lights extinguished, the Nautilus Nautilus pa.s.sed five fathoms beneath the broad wooden hull. Nemo's crew peered upward through the portholes, a.s.sessing the size of the war vessel. pa.s.sed five fathoms beneath the broad wooden hull. Nemo's crew peered upward through the portholes, a.s.sessing the size of the war vessel.

Standing off at some distance, the Nautilus Nautilus surfaced like a dozing whale. Her front lights glowed a brilliant yellow. Nemo climbed the ladder and opened the upper hatch. With a spygla.s.s to his eye, he peered toward the wars.h.i.+p as the sun set, coloring the distant horizon with yellows and orange. surfaced like a dozing whale. Her front lights glowed a brilliant yellow. Nemo climbed the ladder and opened the upper hatch. With a spygla.s.s to his eye, he peered toward the wars.h.i.+p as the sun set, coloring the distant horizon with yellows and orange.

”Mr. Harding, prepare for our first . . . statement.” Nemo studied the s.h.i.+p and counted the cannons protruding from hatches above the waterline. Wearing a grim expression, he descended back to the sub-marine's bridge. As if wearing blinders, he fixed his thoughts on a single point in the future, not allowing himself to think too much on what he was doing. He had made up his mind and would not be swayed.

”She is a vessel of war, gentlemen,” Nemo said. ”Perhaps even a privateer, government-sponsored pirates who are free to attack other s.h.i.+ps . . . so long as those s.h.i.+ps fly the flags of an enemy nation.”

Aboard the British wars.h.i.+p, men in Royal Navy uniforms marched the decks and gathered to look at the distant metal-hulled sea creature. Lying partially submerged, the Nautilus Nautilus must have appeared to be a strange monster with a razor back, armored skin, and glowing yellow eyes. must have appeared to be a strange monster with a razor back, armored skin, and glowing yellow eyes.

Nemo's crew fidgeted, though they had discussed their plans at great length. Scratching stubble on his dimpled chin, Cyrus Harding voiced his reservations, which echoed those of the other men. ”Britain was my home, Captain, a long time ago -- and that wars.h.i.+p carries a good many English sons. Where --”

Nemo raised a hand to interrupt him, not in a display of temper, but of firm resolve. His anger was directed outward, not at his crew. ”The Nautilus Nautilus is our only country now, men. We have no allegiance and no territories. If that were a war vessel from France, I would be just as willing to strike our blow. We have separated ourselves from the rest of our race. And, ironically, we must become crusaders for the rights of humanity.” is our only country now, men. We have no allegiance and no territories. If that were a war vessel from France, I would be just as willing to strike our blow. We have separated ourselves from the rest of our race. And, ironically, we must become crusaders for the rights of humanity.”

”But, Captain, what about the humanity aboard that s.h.i.+p?” Harding persisted. ”Do they all deserve to die?”

Nemo glowered, agonized, but intent on his decision. Like ravens' wings, he heard the dying screams of innocents around his ears. ”Gentlemen, that vessel was built to serve one purpose alone -- to commit acts of war to commit acts of war. Her crew is trained to fight and kill. Should we follow her until she fires her cannon, until she spills more innocent blood, and then take our revenge?” He could not drive away the image of burned Rurapente, the thoughts of Auda and young Jules drowning after their fleeing boat was sunk by enemy cannons.

”We must attack any target we find, any bully of the seas. By doing so, we save every person that battles.h.i.+p would have killed and prevent the destruction those cannons would have caused. The only victims are the warmongers themselves, not the innocents . . . like our families were.” The other men looked away, cowed and ashamed. ”Today -- now -- we remove one more weapon from the hands of the world's navies.”

Seeing the blaze in their captain's eyes, the men went back to their stations. The air stank of nervous sweat. Nemo stood motionless at the bridge and waited, gathering his nerve. Finally, speaking for himself as well as the crew, he said, ”Men who make a living by waging war do not deserve our mercy. Remember Rurapente. Remember what happened to your wives and children.”

He pushed away images of Caroline and his happy times with her, the five weeks in a balloon over Africa, their precious intimate moments aboard the s.h.i.+p on the way back to France. No, those memories would not keep him strong. ”Remember.”

In his mind, Nemo saw it all again: the flames, the screams, the scars . . . the warlords fighting each other. The Light Brigade led into slaughter in the Crimea. The villains like Caliph Robur and the ruthless slavers in Africa. The pirates who had sunk the Coralie Coralie and slain Captain Grant -- and slain Captain Grant -- Nemo gave the order for the Nautilus Nautilus to submerge. He had never tested his beloved vessel in such a terrible manner, but he knew the integrity of his design. He knew what the to submerge. He had never tested his beloved vessel in such a terrible manner, but he knew the integrity of his design. He knew what the Nautilus Nautilus had been created to do. had been created to do.

He closed his dark eyes for just a moment and summoned an image of beautiful Auda and little Jules. He tried to find peace, tried to find a purpose. But he could no longer think of them without envisioning the charred bones in the ruins of Rurapente. He thought of Auda murdered, of young Jules pulled beneath the dark water, trying to suck in a breath of air as their s.h.i.+p sank -- ”Full ahead,” he said. ”Ramming speed.”

The engines growled, and the propellers turned. The Nautilus Nautilus leaped forward like a hungry shark, spewing a wake just below the surface. Yellow eyes from the forward lamps burned the seas ahead of them. leaped forward like a hungry shark, spewing a wake just below the surface. Yellow eyes from the forward lamps burned the seas ahead of them.

”Brace yourselves, mates,” Cyrus Harding said, cool and collected, an engineer to the last.

The dark shadow of the British wars.h.i.+p's hull loomed closer and closer. The Nautilus Nautilus streaked toward it, picking up speed. The armored metal saw-ridge on its bow was sharp, ready to eviscerate. streaked toward it, picking up speed. The armored metal saw-ridge on its bow was sharp, ready to eviscerate.

With a hideous, resounding crunch, the sub-marine boat crashed into the underbelly of the battles.h.i.+p. The impact sent a deafening clang clang through the hull of the through the hull of the Nautilus Nautilus, and the shock hurled the crew to their knees.

The relentless engines continued to roar. The sub-marine boat sawed like a battlefield surgeon's blade amputating a diseased limb. The hull of the British wars.h.i.+p tore open, a mortal wound that shattered its keel and burst the bulkheads.

”Full stop!” Nemo called and turned to watch, sickened at what he had done and yet refusing to regret his actions.

The gutted wars.h.i.+p seemed unable to grasp what had just happened. An explosion sent a m.u.f.fled boom through the water, probably from a ruptured powder storehouse ignited by stray sparks.

At a safe distance, Nemo gave the order to surface again. Several silent, awestruck crewmen climbed up through the hatch to stand on the outer hull of the undersea vessel, where they observed the death throes of the wars.h.i.+p. At least they were far enough away that they could not hear the cries of pain and pleas for rescue from the doomed British crew. . . .