e up in disgust and returned here to build his famous Clermont.
“The most recent use of submarine vehicles was also in your country, during the recent war among your states. Doubtless, you gentlemen will recall the story of the Hunley, a Confederate craft some forty feet long and four feet in the beam. Its propulsion was provided by eight men, sitting side-by-side and operating a sort of crankshaft which turned a screw propellor. I believe it was on the seventeenth of February, in 1864, that the Hunley managed to sink the Housatonic in Charleston Harbor by means of a gunpowder torpedo on the end of a long pole. Given the nature of the craft, the attack had to be made with the hatch open so visibility would be possible. As a result, the Hunley was swamped when the torpedo exploded and it sank with all hands. To that extent, it is somewhat debatable as to whether or not this was a successful attack and even whether or not it can properly be called a submarine attack.
“Now, gentlemen, the Hunley went down a mere two years ago. Are we to believe it is within the realm of possibility for science to have progressed so far as to enable, in two years, a submarine boat to be constructed which is capable of remaining submerged indefinitely and of attaining the sort of speeds reported in the sightings? Even if we were to accept such an astonishing development, well then, how would this submarine be able to resupply itself? What fantastic method of propulsion could it employ to attain such enormous motive power? How could it hope to attack other ships without risking damage to itself? How could its crew survive such long periods of submersion, even given the ability of storing oxygen in some manner which would enable such submersion, without being poisoned by the gases of their own exhalations? No, gentlemen, glamorous though the idea might be, it is quite ludicrous when examined from a practical standpoint. The technology simply does not exist which would allow for the construction of such a craft. That smacks of the sort of fantasy disreputable novelists such as myself indulge in.” He smiled. “What we are concerned with here is a scientific expedition, not one of my voyages extraordinaire. Although, I must confess, I find the idea of a submarine boat constructed by means of some sort of super science to be quite appealing. I may even write about it someday. However, it’s all nonsense, I assure you.”
They addressed him as Professor once again when they thanked him for his statements and Verne slowly shook his head as he watched them rush off to file their stories.
“Newspapermen,” he mumbled to himself. “Doubtless, they’ll get everything all wrong, as usual, and confer a doctorate upon me to validate their stories.”
He went on board the frigate and one of the sailors conducted him to the presence of the ship’s captain, a tall and handsome officer with ramrod straight posture and a no-nonsense manner.
“Commander Farragut?” said Verne.
“You must be Mr. Verne,” said Farragut.
The author looked surprised. “You know me, sir?”
“I have seen your photograph and I have had the pleasure of reading your Five Weeks in a Balloon. It’s a pleasure to have you aboard, sir. Can it be you are considering turning your talents towards nautical adventure?”
“I have been giving the matter some thought,” said Verne, smiling. “Perhaps this voyage will provide me with some necessary background. I’m afraid I’m liable to make quite a nuisance of myself, pestering everyone with questions. Please do not hesitate to tell me if I begin getting in your way.”
Farragut grinned. “Think nothing of it. You go on ahead and make as much of a nuisance of yourself as you care to. My men know what they’re about. I doubt answering a few questions will get in the way of their performing their duties. They’re all quite looking forward to this venture. It will be something of a pleasure cruise for them.”
“A pleasure cruise? Do I take it, then, you do not believe in this so-called sea monster we are hunting?”
“Quite the contrary. I have been at sea long enough to know that one can never truly know the sea. I think there is something out there, although I doubt it is anything like some creature out of Greek mythology. Whatever it may be, I intend to hunt it down and rid the seas of it.”
“You mean to kill the creature?” Verne said, aghast. “But why? Think of the importance such a find would have to science!”
“With all due respect, Mr. Verne, I strongly suspect your scientific-minded friends would be far happier to have this creature spread out on their dissecting tables rather than have it swimming about on the bottom of the ocean, inaccessible to them,” said Farragut. “As for myself, my first responsibility is to the shipping companies. All this publicity and speculation about a sea monster is causing companies like Lloyd’s to raise their premiums. No one is very happy about the prospect of having to pay more in order to have their ships insured against destruction by some sea monster.”
“Yes, but-but I was under the impression this was to be an expedition of scientific inquiry!” protested Verne.
“And so it is,” said Farragut. “You will find quite a diverse group on board for this voyage. We have sailing with us representatives of the New York Museum of Natural History, the Smithsonian Institution, the Royal Zoological Society and members of the faculties of several universities. I should think you’ll be at no loss for stimulating company. As a matter of fact, if you have not yet had time for dinner, I would suggest you hasten to the wardroom, where our passengers are being served at this very moment. Now if you will excuse me, we shall have to continue this discussion at a future time. I must make preparations for getting under way.”
Verne paused only long enough to check his cabin, which he found he was sharing with someone else judging by the belongings placed there along with his, then proceeded to the wardroom. The other passengers were already sitting down to dinner when he entered. Upon seeing him standing in the doorway, one of the diners stood and beckoned him forward.
“Ah, I see we have a late arrival,” said the man, speaking with a British accent. He was dressed in tweeds and wore thick wire-rimmed glasses. “Please, there is a place beside me here. You are only just in time.”
The other diners started to rise, but Verne quickly waved them back down. “No, no, my friends, please, do not get up on my account.”
He walked over to the seat indicated by the Englishman.
“Permit me to perform the introductions,” said the Britisher. “This is Dr. Samuelson, of the Smithsonian.” He indicated the man to his immediate left, a dapper, distinguished-looking gentleman with thinning gray hair, horn-rimmed glasses and a moustache. “Dr. Vandenburg, of the Museum of Natural History here in New York.” The man he indicated nodded briefly, gazing out at Verne from beneath large, bushy black eyebrows. There were bread crumbs in his walruslike moustache. “Professor Priest of the University of Maine.” Lucas nodded at him with a smile. “Dr. Delaney of the University of Boston and his associate, Professor Cross; Mr. Ned Land-”
“Of the university of hard knocks,” said the brawny Land, with a wide grin, his blue eyes glinting with amusement at being included among such distinguished company.
“And, of course, myself. My name is Devries. Dr. Reginald Fitzhugh Devries, of the Royal Zoological Society.”
“I am pleased to meet you all,” said Verne, taking his seat. “My name is Verne. Jules Verne. And that would be Mister, not Doctor or Professor, please.”
Priest and Delaney exchanged quick glances.
“Ah, yes, the eminent author,” said Samuelson. “I had heard you would be sailing with us. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Verne. Tell me, did those newspapermen outside descend upon you, as well?”
“I am afraid so,” said Verne. “I attempted to reply to their queries to the best of my limited ability, but I was left with the feeling I had not told them quite what they wished to hear.”
“What did you tell them?” Devries said.