1869
18 Squid
For several days the Nautilus kept well away from the American coast. It clearly did not want to hang about the Gulf of Mexico or the Caribbean. Nevertheless, its keel would not have lacked water, for the average depth of these seas is 1,800 metres; but probably the wa- ters dotted with islands and crisscrossed by steamers did not suit Captain Nemo.
On 16 April we sighted Martinique and Guadeloupe at a distance of about 30 miles. I caught a brief glimpse of their high peaks.
The Canadian was counting on implementing his plans in the Gulf, either by reaching a piece of land or by accosting one of the numerous boats which worked their way along the
267
shores of the islands, and so he was very disappointed. Escape would have been practicable if
Ned had managed to get hold of the boat without the captain knowing. But we could not even
dream of doing this in mid-ocean.
Ned, Conseil, and I had quite a long conversation on the subject. We had been prison- ers on board the Nautilus for six months. We had travelled 17,000 leagues and, as Ned pointed out, there was no reason to expect any change. He therefore made a suggestion which I was not expecting. This was that I categorically ask Captain Nemo: did he plan to keep us on board his vessel indefinitely?
Such a course of action did not appeal to me. In my view, it couldn’t possibly suc- ceed. We couldn’t count on the captain of the Nautilus, only on ourselves alone and com- pletely. Also, for some time the captain had become more sombre, withdrawn, and anti- social. He seemed to be avoiding me, as I only met him at rare intervals. Formerly, he had enjoyed explaining the underwater marvels to me; but now he left me to my studies and no longer came into the salon.
What change had come over him? What was he reacting to? I had done nothing to re- proach myself with. Perhaps our very presence on board weighed on him? But in any case, he was certainly not the sort of man to give us back our freedom.
I therefore asked Ned to give me more time to think about the question. If his sugges- tion failed, it could wreck his plans by reviving the captain’s suspicions, and make our situa- tion very difficult. In addition, I had no arguments to offer concerning the state of our health. With the exception of the difficulties under the ice of the South Pole, we had never been in better health, Ned, Conseil, nor myself. The nourishing food, healthy atmosphere, regularity in our lives, and uniformity of temperature simply didn’t allow illness to take hold. I could understand how a life like this would suit a man who had no regrets about leaving life on shore, a Captain Nemo who was at home here, who went where he wished, and who pursued goals that were mysterious to others and known only to himself; but as for the three of us, we had been made to break with humanity. For my part, I did not wish my intriguing and original studies to be buried with me. I was now in a position to write the real book of the sea, and I wanted this book to appear sooner rather than later.
Through the open panel, ten metres below the surface of the West Indian waters, how many interesting specimens I could see for recording in my daily notes! Amongst other zoo- phytes, there were the Portuguese men-of-war known as pelagic men-of-war, which are thick oblong bladders with a pearly sheen, spreading their membranes out to be blown in the cur- rent and letting their blue tentacles float like threads of silk, charming jellyfish to look at but authentic nettles to the touch for they secrete a corrosive liquid. Amongst the articulates there were one-and-half-metre long annelids, with pink trunks and 1,700 locomotive organs, which snaked through the water, going through all the colours of the rainbow as they passed by. In the branch of the fishes there were enormous cartilaginous Mobula mantas, ten feet long and 600 pounds in weight, with triangular pectoral fins, a slight swelling in the middle of the back, and fixed eyes on the edge of the front part of the head; floating like wrecked ships, they sometimes adhered to our window like dark shutters. There were American triggerfish for which Nature had mixed only white and black paint, long, fleshy, feathered gobies with yellow fins and prominent jaws, and 1.6-metre scombroids of the species of albacores with short sharp teeth and a fine covering of scales. Then red mullets appeared in clouds, enclosed from head to tail in golden stripes and waving their glorious fins; they are true masterpieces of jewellery that were formerly offered to Diana,331 particularly sought out by rich Romans
331. Diana: the virgin goddess of hunting and of childbirth, associated with the moon. 268
Ned, Conseil, and I had quite a long conversation on the subject. We had been prison- ers on board the Nautilus for six months. We had travelled 17,000 leagues and, as Ned pointed out, there was no reason to expect any change. He therefore made a suggestion which I was not expecting. This was that I categorically ask Captain Nemo: did he plan to keep us on board his vessel indefinitely?
Such a course of action did not appeal to me. In my view, it couldn’t possibly suc- ceed. We couldn’t count on the captain of the Nautilus, only on ourselves alone and com- pletely. Also, for some time the captain had become more sombre, withdrawn, and anti- social. He seemed to be avoiding me, as I only met him at rare intervals. Formerly, he had enjoyed explaining the underwater marvels to me; but now he left me to my studies and no longer came into the salon.
What change had come over him? What was he reacting to? I had done nothing to re- proach myself with. Perhaps our very presence on board weighed on him? But in any case, he was certainly not the sort of man to give us back our freedom.
I therefore asked Ned to give me more time to think about the question. If his sugges- tion failed, it could wreck his plans by reviving the captain’s suspicions, and make our situa- tion very difficult. In addition, I had no arguments to offer concerning the state of our health. With the exception of the difficulties under the ice of the South Pole, we had never been in better health, Ned, Conseil, nor myself. The nourishing food, healthy atmosphere, regularity in our lives, and uniformity of temperature simply didn’t allow illness to take hold. I could understand how a life like this would suit a man who had no regrets about leaving life on shore, a Captain Nemo who was at home here, who went where he wished, and who pursued goals that were mysterious to others and known only to himself; but as for the three of us, we had been made to break with humanity. For my part, I did not wish my intriguing and original studies to be buried with me. I was now in a position to write the real book of the sea, and I wanted this book to appear sooner rather than later.
Through the open panel, ten metres below the surface of the West Indian waters, how many interesting specimens I could see for recording in my daily notes! Amongst other zoo- phytes, there were the Portuguese men-of-war known as pelagic men-of-war, which are thick oblong bladders with a pearly sheen, spreading their membranes out to be blown in the cur- rent and letting their blue tentacles float like threads of silk, charming jellyfish to look at but authentic nettles to the touch for they secrete a corrosive liquid. Amongst the articulates there were one-and-half-metre long annelids, with pink trunks and 1,700 locomotive organs, which snaked through the water, going through all the colours of the rainbow as they passed by. In the branch of the fishes there were enormous cartilaginous Mobula mantas, ten feet long and 600 pounds in weight, with triangular pectoral fins, a slight swelling in the middle of the back, and fixed eyes on the edge of the front part of the head; floating like wrecked ships, they sometimes adhered to our window like dark shutters. There were American triggerfish for which Nature had mixed only white and black paint, long, fleshy, feathered gobies with yellow fins and prominent jaws, and 1.6-metre scombroids of the species of albacores with short sharp teeth and a fine covering of scales. Then red mullets appeared in clouds, enclosed from head to tail in golden stripes and waving their glorious fins; they are true masterpieces of jewellery that were formerly offered to Diana,331 particularly sought out by rich Romans
331. Diana: the virgin goddess of hunting and of childbirth, associated with the moon. 268
and the subject of the proverb: ‘Those that catch them don’t eat them!’ Finally golden Po-
macentri passed before our eyes, decked out in emerald strips and clothed in velvet and silk,
like lords out of Veronese; sparina sparids fled using their swift thoracic fins; fifteen-inch
clupeids produced an aura of phosphorescent gleams; grey mullets threshed the water with
their large fleshy tails; red Coregonids seemed to scythe the sea with their sharp pectoral fins;
and silvery Selenes justified their name by rising on the horizon of the waters with milky
gleams like so many moons.
How many other marvellous specimens I would have observed, if the Nautilus hadn’t gradually dropped down towards the lower strata! Its inclined planes carried it down to depths of 2,000 then 3,500 metres. The animal life now consisted only of crinoids, starfish, charming medusa-head pentacrinites whose straight stems supported small calyxes, top- shells, bloody dentalia, and fissurella, coastal molluscs of great size.
On 20 April we had come back up to an average depth of 1,500 metres. The closest land was the Bahamas, spread like cobblestones over the surface of the waters. High subma- rine cliffs rose, vertical walls of roughly hewn blocks resting on wide bases, with black holes opening up between them whose ends our electric rays could not penetrate.
The rocks were carpeted with huge grasses, giant laminarias, and enormous wracks: a true espalier of hydrophytes worthy of a world of Titans.
From these colossal plants, Conseil, Ned, and I naturally turned to listing the gigantic animals of the sea. Some of them were evidently destined to be the food of others. However, through the windows of the Nautilus, almost motionless, I could not yet see anything clinging to the long filaments except the principal articulates of the division of brachyurans: decapods with long limbs, purple crabs, and clios peculiar to the seas of the West Indies.
It was about eleven o’clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable swarming moving through the large expanses of seaweed.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘these are real squids’ caves, and I would not be surprised to see a few monsters here!’
‘What?’ said Conseil. ‘Calamar, mere calamar of the class of cephalopods?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘giant squid. But friend Land is undoubtedly mistaken, for I can’t see anything.’
‘What a shame,’ replied Conseil. ‘I long to come face to face with one of those squid I have heard about so often, which can drag ships down to the bottom of the seas. Those beasts are called Krak .... ‘
‘Crackpots .... ‘ the Canadian interjected.
‘Krakens,’ continued Conseil, without paying attention to his companion’s joke.
‘I will never be able to believe’, said Land, ‘in the existence of such animals.’
‘Why ever not? We ended up believing in monsieur’s narwhal.’
‘We were wrong, Conseil.’
‘Undoubtedly, but others still believe in it.’
‘Probably, Conseil, but for my part I have resolved to admit the existence of such
monsters only after I have dissected them with my own hand.’
‘So’, Conseil asked, ‘monsieur does not believe in giant squid?’
‘Hey, who the hell has ever believed in them?’ exclaimed the Canadian.
‘Many people, friend Ned.’
‘Not fishermen. Scientists perhaps!’
‘With respect, Ned: fishermen and scientists.’
‘But as I stand here,’ said Conseil in the most serious tone, ‘I can perfectly remember
seeing a large ship being dragged under the waves by the arms of a cephalopod.’ 269
How many other marvellous specimens I would have observed, if the Nautilus hadn’t gradually dropped down towards the lower strata! Its inclined planes carried it down to depths of 2,000 then 3,500 metres. The animal life now consisted only of crinoids, starfish, charming medusa-head pentacrinites whose straight stems supported small calyxes, top- shells, bloody dentalia, and fissurella, coastal molluscs of great size.
On 20 April we had come back up to an average depth of 1,500 metres. The closest land was the Bahamas, spread like cobblestones over the surface of the waters. High subma- rine cliffs rose, vertical walls of roughly hewn blocks resting on wide bases, with black holes opening up between them whose ends our electric rays could not penetrate.
The rocks were carpeted with huge grasses, giant laminarias, and enormous wracks: a true espalier of hydrophytes worthy of a world of Titans.
From these colossal plants, Conseil, Ned, and I naturally turned to listing the gigantic animals of the sea. Some of them were evidently destined to be the food of others. However, through the windows of the Nautilus, almost motionless, I could not yet see anything clinging to the long filaments except the principal articulates of the division of brachyurans: decapods with long limbs, purple crabs, and clios peculiar to the seas of the West Indies.
It was about eleven o’clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable swarming moving through the large expanses of seaweed.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘these are real squids’ caves, and I would not be surprised to see a few monsters here!’
‘What?’ said Conseil. ‘Calamar, mere calamar of the class of cephalopods?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘giant squid. But friend Land is undoubtedly mistaken, for I can’t see anything.’
‘What a shame,’ replied Conseil. ‘I long to come face to face with one of those squid I have heard about so often, which can drag ships down to the bottom of the seas. Those beasts are called Krak .... ‘
‘Crackpots .... ‘ the Canadian interjected.
‘Krakens,’ continued Conseil, without paying attention to his companion’s joke.
‘I will never be able to believe’, said Land, ‘in the existence of such animals.’
‘Why ever not? We ended up believing in monsieur’s narwhal.’
‘We were wrong, Conseil.’
‘Undoubtedly, but others still believe in it.’
‘Probably, Conseil, but for my part I have resolved to admit the existence of such
monsters only after I have dissected them with my own hand.’
‘So’, Conseil asked, ‘monsieur does not believe in giant squid?’
‘Hey, who the hell has ever believed in them?’ exclaimed the Canadian.
‘Many people, friend Ned.’
‘Not fishermen. Scientists perhaps!’
‘With respect, Ned: fishermen and scientists.’
‘But as I stand here,’ said Conseil in the most serious tone, ‘I can perfectly remember
seeing a large ship being dragged under the waves by the arms of a cephalopod.’ 269
‘You have seen that?’ asked the Canadian.
‘Yes Ned.’
‘With your own eyes?’
‘With my own eyes.’
‘Where, please?’
‘At Saint-Malo,’ Conseil replied imperturbably.
‘In the port?’ Ned asked sarcastically.
‘No, in a church.’
‘In a church!’
‘Yes friend Ned. It was a painting of the said squid!’332
‘So!’ said Ned Land, bursting out laughing. ‘Mr Conseil has been leading me on!’ ‘Actually, he is right,’ I said. ‘I have heard of the painting, but the subject of the pic-
ture is taken from legend, and you know what should be thought of legends in natural his- tory!333 When people start talking about monsters, their imaginations easily go off at a tan- gent. Not only has it been claimed that these squid can drag down ships, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks of a mile-long cephalopod,334 which seemed more like an island than an ani- mal. It is also said that one day the Bishop of Nidaros erected an altar on an immense rock. Once his mass was over, the rock started moving and returned to the sea.335 The rock was a squid.’
‘And that’s all?’ asked the Canadian.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘Another bishop, Pontoppidan of Bergen, also speaks of a squid on which a whole regiment of cavalry could manœuvre!’
‘They didn’t mess around, those bishops of olden days!’ Ned remarked.
‘Finally, the naturalists of antiquity cite monsters whose jaws resembled bays, and which were too big to get through the Strait of Gibraltar!’
‘You don’t say!’
‘But what truth is there in all those tales?’ asked Conseil.
‘None, my friends, at least none amongst the parts which go beyond the limits of
plausibility and become fable or legend. However, if no cause is needed for the imagination of storytellers, some sort of pretext is. It cannot be denied that there are very big squid and
332. a painting of the said squid: Ellis says that the church referred to is St Thomas’s Chapel; and that the painting is an ex-voto from sailors grateful for surviving the incident described in Mont- fort’s book (see note to p. 347 below).
333. and you know what should be thought of legends in natural history!: MS2 has ‘ex-votos’ in- stead of ‘legends’: not only anti-clerical but showing the connection with St Thomas’s Chapel and Montfort.
334. but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks of a mile-long cephalopod: (Verne: ‘Olaüs Magnus’) (1490–1557), Swedish scholar and archbishop of Uppsala, an expert on runes and author of a work translated as Histoire des pays septentrionaux (1560, 1561). In fact, his monsters are only about 200 feet long.
335. one day the Bishop of Nidaros erected an altar on an immense rock. Once his mass was over, the rock started moving and returned to the sea: (Verne: ‘Nidros’) Eric Falkendorff, archbishop of Nidaros (now Trondheim), wrote a letter to Pope Leo X about this mass. Larousse’s Grand dic- tionnaire universel du XIXe siècle reads: ‘Olaüs Magnus recounts the heroic deeds of a colossal cephalopod at least a mile long, which resembled an island in the midst of the waters more than an animal. The bishop of Nidaros discovered one of these gigantic animals peacefully sleeping in the sun and took it for an immense rock. He had an altar erected on its back and duly celebrated mass. The kraken remained motionless while the ceremony was continuing; but scarcely had the bishop regained the shore than it dived back down into the sea.’
270
‘With your own eyes?’
‘With my own eyes.’
‘Where, please?’
‘At Saint-Malo,’ Conseil replied imperturbably.
‘In the port?’ Ned asked sarcastically.
‘No, in a church.’
‘In a church!’
‘Yes friend Ned. It was a painting of the said squid!’332
‘So!’ said Ned Land, bursting out laughing. ‘Mr Conseil has been leading me on!’ ‘Actually, he is right,’ I said. ‘I have heard of the painting, but the subject of the pic-
ture is taken from legend, and you know what should be thought of legends in natural his- tory!333 When people start talking about monsters, their imaginations easily go off at a tan- gent. Not only has it been claimed that these squid can drag down ships, but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks of a mile-long cephalopod,334 which seemed more like an island than an ani- mal. It is also said that one day the Bishop of Nidaros erected an altar on an immense rock. Once his mass was over, the rock started moving and returned to the sea.335 The rock was a squid.’
‘And that’s all?’ asked the Canadian.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘Another bishop, Pontoppidan of Bergen, also speaks of a squid on which a whole regiment of cavalry could manœuvre!’
‘They didn’t mess around, those bishops of olden days!’ Ned remarked.
‘Finally, the naturalists of antiquity cite monsters whose jaws resembled bays, and which were too big to get through the Strait of Gibraltar!’
‘You don’t say!’
‘But what truth is there in all those tales?’ asked Conseil.
‘None, my friends, at least none amongst the parts which go beyond the limits of
plausibility and become fable or legend. However, if no cause is needed for the imagination of storytellers, some sort of pretext is. It cannot be denied that there are very big squid and
332. a painting of the said squid: Ellis says that the church referred to is St Thomas’s Chapel; and that the painting is an ex-voto from sailors grateful for surviving the incident described in Mont- fort’s book (see note to p. 347 below).
333. and you know what should be thought of legends in natural history!: MS2 has ‘ex-votos’ in- stead of ‘legends’: not only anti-clerical but showing the connection with St Thomas’s Chapel and Montfort.
334. but a certain Olaus Magnus speaks of a mile-long cephalopod: (Verne: ‘Olaüs Magnus’) (1490–1557), Swedish scholar and archbishop of Uppsala, an expert on runes and author of a work translated as Histoire des pays septentrionaux (1560, 1561). In fact, his monsters are only about 200 feet long.
335. one day the Bishop of Nidaros erected an altar on an immense rock. Once his mass was over, the rock started moving and returned to the sea: (Verne: ‘Nidros’) Eric Falkendorff, archbishop of Nidaros (now Trondheim), wrote a letter to Pope Leo X about this mass. Larousse’s Grand dic- tionnaire universel du XIXe siècle reads: ‘Olaüs Magnus recounts the heroic deeds of a colossal cephalopod at least a mile long, which resembled an island in the midst of the waters more than an animal. The bishop of Nidaros discovered one of these gigantic animals peacefully sleeping in the sun and took it for an immense rock. He had an altar erected on its back and duly celebrated mass. The kraken remained motionless while the ceremony was continuing; but scarcely had the bishop regained the shore than it dived back down into the sea.’
270
calamar, even if they are smaller than whales. Aristotle observed the dimensions of a squid
five cubits long, that is 3.10 metres. Our fishermen frequently see ones longer than 1.8 me-
tres. The museums of Trieste and Montpellier contain skeletons of squid that are two metres
long. What is more, the naturalists have calculated that an animal only six feet in length
would have tentacles of twenty-seven feet, which is more than enough to make a formidable
monster.’
‘And are they still caught nowadays?’ asked the Canadian.
‘If they are not caught, at least sailors still see them. One of my friends, Captain Paul Bos of Le Havre,336 has often told me that he encountered one such colossal monster in the Indian Ocean. And the most astonishing thing happened a few years ago, in 1861, which no longer allows the existence of these gigantic animals to be denied.’
‘Go on,’ said Ned Land.
‘Thank you. In 1861, north-east of Tenerife, at the approximate latitude where we are now, the crew of the sloop Alecton sighted an enormous squid swimming in its wake. Captain Bouyer337 closed on the animal and attacked it with harpoons and guns, but without great suc- cess, for bullets and harpoons passed through the soft flesh like unset jelly. After several un- successful attempts, the crew managed to put a slip knot round the mollusc’s body. The knot slid as far as the tail-fins and stopped there. They then tried to haul the monster on board, but it was so heavy that the rope pulled the tail off, and deprived of this adornment, it disap- peared under the water.’
‘Finally we have a fact.’
‘An indisputable fact, my good Ned. That was why it was proposed to call it “Bouyer’s squid”.’
‘And how long was it?’ he asked.
‘Did it not measure about six metres?’ said Conseil, standing at the window and ex- amining the holes in the cliff.
‘Precisely,’ I replied.
‘Was its head not crowned with eight tentacles, which waved in the water like a nest
336. Captain Paul Bos of Le Havre: no trace has been found.
MD (p. 66) says that a possible influence on 20TL was Gustave Lennier, director of the Muséum d’histoire naturelle of Le Havre, where Verne visited an exhibition in June 1868 that Lennier had or- ganized, including African and American fish; its catalogue was published as Les Merveilles de l’aquarium de l’exposition du Havre (1868).
337. Captain Bouyer: (Verne: ‘Commander Bouguer’) Frédéric (dates unknown), author of L’Amour d’un monstre: Scènes de la vie créole (1866) (the title may be an allusion to the 1861 inci- dent) and La Guyane française; notes et souvenirs d’un voyage exécuté en 1862B1863 (1867), with illustrations by Riou, one of the illustrators of 20TL. Vierne (1986; p. 375) reports that a letter to the Figaro of 21 August 1871 indicated Verne’s misspelling, which was not however corrected in subse- quent reprints. The incident Aronnax relates took place on 30 November 1861: it is certified in a letter written to the French Academy of Sciences by Sabin Berthelot, French consul at Tenerife: ‘the steam despatch-boat Alecton [....] encountered a monstrous polyp [....] 16–18 feet in length without counting the eight formidable arms, covered with air-holes [....] eyes [of] a frightful fixity. Its mouth like a par- rot’s beak [....] about two tons [....] a strong odour of musk.’ The tail apparently weighed 40lb. The story was much criticized, including the impracticability of trying to haul a two-ton mass on to a small ship using a single rope, the strange behaviour of the creature in swimming under the boat and re- maining on the scene for two or three hours, and the lack of information about the tail. However, in the 1870s a whole series of similar creatures were washed up on Newfoundland, with enormous eyes, parrot-like beaks, and tentacles reportedly up to 35 feet long. Modern authorities indicate maximum total lengths of 50 feet and weights of two tonnes.
271
‘And are they still caught nowadays?’ asked the Canadian.
‘If they are not caught, at least sailors still see them. One of my friends, Captain Paul Bos of Le Havre,336 has often told me that he encountered one such colossal monster in the Indian Ocean. And the most astonishing thing happened a few years ago, in 1861, which no longer allows the existence of these gigantic animals to be denied.’
‘Go on,’ said Ned Land.
‘Thank you. In 1861, north-east of Tenerife, at the approximate latitude where we are now, the crew of the sloop Alecton sighted an enormous squid swimming in its wake. Captain Bouyer337 closed on the animal and attacked it with harpoons and guns, but without great suc- cess, for bullets and harpoons passed through the soft flesh like unset jelly. After several un- successful attempts, the crew managed to put a slip knot round the mollusc’s body. The knot slid as far as the tail-fins and stopped there. They then tried to haul the monster on board, but it was so heavy that the rope pulled the tail off, and deprived of this adornment, it disap- peared under the water.’
‘Finally we have a fact.’
‘An indisputable fact, my good Ned. That was why it was proposed to call it “Bouyer’s squid”.’
‘And how long was it?’ he asked.
‘Did it not measure about six metres?’ said Conseil, standing at the window and ex- amining the holes in the cliff.
‘Precisely,’ I replied.
‘Was its head not crowned with eight tentacles, which waved in the water like a nest
336. Captain Paul Bos of Le Havre: no trace has been found.
MD (p. 66) says that a possible influence on 20TL was Gustave Lennier, director of the Muséum d’histoire naturelle of Le Havre, where Verne visited an exhibition in June 1868 that Lennier had or- ganized, including African and American fish; its catalogue was published as Les Merveilles de l’aquarium de l’exposition du Havre (1868).
337. Captain Bouyer: (Verne: ‘Commander Bouguer’) Frédéric (dates unknown), author of L’Amour d’un monstre: Scènes de la vie créole (1866) (the title may be an allusion to the 1861 inci- dent) and La Guyane française; notes et souvenirs d’un voyage exécuté en 1862B1863 (1867), with illustrations by Riou, one of the illustrators of 20TL. Vierne (1986; p. 375) reports that a letter to the Figaro of 21 August 1871 indicated Verne’s misspelling, which was not however corrected in subse- quent reprints. The incident Aronnax relates took place on 30 November 1861: it is certified in a letter written to the French Academy of Sciences by Sabin Berthelot, French consul at Tenerife: ‘the steam despatch-boat Alecton [....] encountered a monstrous polyp [....] 16–18 feet in length without counting the eight formidable arms, covered with air-holes [....] eyes [of] a frightful fixity. Its mouth like a par- rot’s beak [....] about two tons [....] a strong odour of musk.’ The tail apparently weighed 40lb. The story was much criticized, including the impracticability of trying to haul a two-ton mass on to a small ship using a single rope, the strange behaviour of the creature in swimming under the boat and re- maining on the scene for two or three hours, and the lack of information about the tail. However, in the 1870s a whole series of similar creatures were washed up on Newfoundland, with enormous eyes, parrot-like beaks, and tentacles reportedly up to 35 feet long. Modern authorities indicate maximum total lengths of 50 feet and weights of two tonnes.
271
of serpents?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Were its eyes not extremely prominent and large?’
‘Yes Conseil.’
‘And was its mouth not a real parrot’s beak, a formidable one at that?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Well, if monsieur pleases,’ calmly replied Conseil, ‘if that isn’t Bouyer’s squid, then
at least it must be one of its brothers.’
I gaped at him. Ned rushed to the window.
‘What a frightening beast!’ he exclaimed.
I looked in turn, and could not hide a movement of repulsion. In front of my eyes
moved a horrible monster, worthy of appearing in any teratological legend.
It was a squid of colossal dimensions, eight metres in length. It was moving back- wards at extreme velocity as it headed towards the Nautilus. It was staring with its enormous fixed eyes of sea-green hue. Its eight arms, or rather legs, were not only implanted on its head, thus giving these animals the name of cephalopods, but were twice as big as its body and waving around like the Furies’ hair. We could distinctly see the 250 suckers in the form of hemispherical capsules on the inside of the tentacles. Sometimes these suckers were placed on the salon’s windows and stuck there. The monster’s mouth—a horny beak like a par- rot’s—was opening and closing vertically. Its tongue emerged oscillating from this pair of shears, and was made of a horny substance, itself equipped with several rows of sharp teeth. What a freak of nature: a bird’s beak on a mollusc! Its body, cylindrical but swollen in the middle, formed a fleshy mass that had to weigh 20 to 25 tons. Its colour changed in quick succession according to the animal’s irritation, and went progressively from pale grey to red-
dish-brown.338
What was the mollusc irritated at? Undoubtedly at the Nautilus, more formidable than
it, and on which its sucking arms and mandibles could not really take hold. And yet what monsters these squid were, what vitality the Creator had endowed them with, and what vigour their movements had, since they possessed three hearts!
Chance had brought us to this squid, and I did not want to waste the opportunity of closely studying such a specimen of cephalopod. I overcame the horror its appearance caused me, picked up a pencil, and began to draw it.
‘Perhaps it is the same one as the Alecton saw,’ said Conseil.
‘It can’t be,’ replied the Canadian, ‘since the other one lost its tail and this one still has it.’
‘Not necessarily,’ I replied. ‘The arms and tails of these animals form again by redin- tegration, and in seven years the squid’s tail has undoubtedly had the time to grow again.’
‘In any case,’ replied Ned, ‘if it’s not this one, it’s perhaps one of those!’
Other squid were indeed appearing at the starboard window. I counted seven of them. They formed a procession accompanying the Nautilus, and I could hear the grinding of their beaks on the metal hull. We had plenty on our plate.
I continued my work. These monsters stayed in our wake with such precision that
338. reddish-brown: Ellis claims that this description is worse than ‘wrong’, arguing that ‘blue- green eyes’ and a ‘hornlike’ tongue are errors and that an eight-metre squid could not weigh 20,000 kilograms. But ‘blue-green’ is in fact a mistranslation and Verne may possibly be indicating the length of the body without the tentacles.
Ve rne’s mention of the Furies (the terrible winged goddesses with serpentine hair) is surely mo- tivated by the name of the first Fury, Alecto, also the name of Bouyer’s vessel.
272
‘Were its eyes not extremely prominent and large?’
‘Yes Conseil.’
‘And was its mouth not a real parrot’s beak, a formidable one at that?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Well, if monsieur pleases,’ calmly replied Conseil, ‘if that isn’t Bouyer’s squid, then
at least it must be one of its brothers.’
I gaped at him. Ned rushed to the window.
‘What a frightening beast!’ he exclaimed.
I looked in turn, and could not hide a movement of repulsion. In front of my eyes
moved a horrible monster, worthy of appearing in any teratological legend.
It was a squid of colossal dimensions, eight metres in length. It was moving back- wards at extreme velocity as it headed towards the Nautilus. It was staring with its enormous fixed eyes of sea-green hue. Its eight arms, or rather legs, were not only implanted on its head, thus giving these animals the name of cephalopods, but were twice as big as its body and waving around like the Furies’ hair. We could distinctly see the 250 suckers in the form of hemispherical capsules on the inside of the tentacles. Sometimes these suckers were placed on the salon’s windows and stuck there. The monster’s mouth—a horny beak like a par- rot’s—was opening and closing vertically. Its tongue emerged oscillating from this pair of shears, and was made of a horny substance, itself equipped with several rows of sharp teeth. What a freak of nature: a bird’s beak on a mollusc! Its body, cylindrical but swollen in the middle, formed a fleshy mass that had to weigh 20 to 25 tons. Its colour changed in quick succession according to the animal’s irritation, and went progressively from pale grey to red-
dish-brown.338
What was the mollusc irritated at? Undoubtedly at the Nautilus, more formidable than
it, and on which its sucking arms and mandibles could not really take hold. And yet what monsters these squid were, what vitality the Creator had endowed them with, and what vigour their movements had, since they possessed three hearts!
Chance had brought us to this squid, and I did not want to waste the opportunity of closely studying such a specimen of cephalopod. I overcame the horror its appearance caused me, picked up a pencil, and began to draw it.
‘Perhaps it is the same one as the Alecton saw,’ said Conseil.
‘It can’t be,’ replied the Canadian, ‘since the other one lost its tail and this one still has it.’
‘Not necessarily,’ I replied. ‘The arms and tails of these animals form again by redin- tegration, and in seven years the squid’s tail has undoubtedly had the time to grow again.’
‘In any case,’ replied Ned, ‘if it’s not this one, it’s perhaps one of those!’
Other squid were indeed appearing at the starboard window. I counted seven of them. They formed a procession accompanying the Nautilus, and I could hear the grinding of their beaks on the metal hull. We had plenty on our plate.
I continued my work. These monsters stayed in our wake with such precision that
338. reddish-brown: Ellis claims that this description is worse than ‘wrong’, arguing that ‘blue- green eyes’ and a ‘hornlike’ tongue are errors and that an eight-metre squid could not weigh 20,000 kilograms. But ‘blue-green’ is in fact a mistranslation and Verne may possibly be indicating the length of the body without the tentacles.
Ve rne’s mention of the Furies (the terrible winged goddesses with serpentine hair) is surely mo- tivated by the name of the first Fury, Alecto, also the name of Bouyer’s vessel.
272
they seemed motionless, and I could have traced them directly on to the window. We were in
fact moving at moderate speed.
Suddenly the Nautilus stopped. The shock made its whole framework tremble.
‘Have we hit something?’ I asked.
‘If we have,’ replied the Canadian, ‘then we’re free again.’
The Nautilus was undoubtedly disengaged again, but was no longer moving. Its pro-
peller blades were not cutting the waves. A minute passed before Captain Nemo, followed by his first officer, came into the salon.
I had not seen him for some time. He look sombre. Without speaking to us, perhaps without even seeing us, he approached the panel, looked at the squid, and said a few words to his first officer. His deputy went out.
Soon the panels were closed again. The ceiling was lit up. I approached the captain.
‘A curious collection of squid,’ I said, in the detached tone a visitor would use in front of the window of an aquarium.
‘Right,’ he replied, ‘and we are going to fight them hand to hand.’
I looked at the captain. I thought I had misheard.
‘Hand to hand?’ I repeated.
‘Yes, monsieur. The propeller has stopped. I think that the corneous mandibles of one
of the squid have got caught in its blades, preventing us moving.’ ‘And what are you going to do?’
‘Surface, and massacre all the vermin.’
‘A difficult task.’
‘Electric bullets are indeed powerless against this soft flesh, for they do not find enough resistance to explode. But we will attack them with axes.’
‘And with harpoons, monsieur,’ said the Canadian, ‘if you will accept my help.’
‘I accept, Master Land.’
‘We’re right behind you,’ I said as Captain Nemo headed for the central staircase. About ten men armed with grappling axes were standing ready for an attack. Conseil
and I picked up two as well. Land seized a harpoon.
The Nautilus meanwhile had surfaced. One of the sailors, standing on the top steps,
was unscrewing the bolts of the hatch. But the bolts were hardly free when the hatch sud- denly shot open, clearly yanked up by the suckers on the arm of a squid.
Immediately one of those long arms slid like a snake into the opening as twenty others waved above. With a single axe blow, Captain Nemo severed the formidable tentacle, which then slid down the stairs, twisting.
While we were all rushing together towards the platform, two other arms, lashing through the air, landed on the sailor in front of Captain Nemo—and carried him off with irre- sistible force.
Captain Nemo exclaimed and rushed outside. We followed him as quickly as we could.
What a scene! The poor man, seized by the tentacle and glued to its suckers, was be- ing rocked in the air at the whim of its enormous trunk. He was groaning as he suffocated, and he was shouting: ‘Au secours! Au secours!’ These words in French flabbergasted me. So I had a compatriot on board, perhaps several! I will hear his heartbreaking appeal in my ears till the end of my life.
The unfortunate man was lost. Who could possibly have wrested him from that pow- erful embrace? However, Captain Nemo rushed at the squid, and with a single axe blow chopped off another arm. His first officer was angrily fighting other monsters crawling over
273
Suddenly the Nautilus stopped. The shock made its whole framework tremble.
‘Have we hit something?’ I asked.
‘If we have,’ replied the Canadian, ‘then we’re free again.’
The Nautilus was undoubtedly disengaged again, but was no longer moving. Its pro-
peller blades were not cutting the waves. A minute passed before Captain Nemo, followed by his first officer, came into the salon.
I had not seen him for some time. He look sombre. Without speaking to us, perhaps without even seeing us, he approached the panel, looked at the squid, and said a few words to his first officer. His deputy went out.
Soon the panels were closed again. The ceiling was lit up. I approached the captain.
‘A curious collection of squid,’ I said, in the detached tone a visitor would use in front of the window of an aquarium.
‘Right,’ he replied, ‘and we are going to fight them hand to hand.’
I looked at the captain. I thought I had misheard.
‘Hand to hand?’ I repeated.
‘Yes, monsieur. The propeller has stopped. I think that the corneous mandibles of one
of the squid have got caught in its blades, preventing us moving.’ ‘And what are you going to do?’
‘Surface, and massacre all the vermin.’
‘A difficult task.’
‘Electric bullets are indeed powerless against this soft flesh, for they do not find enough resistance to explode. But we will attack them with axes.’
‘And with harpoons, monsieur,’ said the Canadian, ‘if you will accept my help.’
‘I accept, Master Land.’
‘We’re right behind you,’ I said as Captain Nemo headed for the central staircase. About ten men armed with grappling axes were standing ready for an attack. Conseil
and I picked up two as well. Land seized a harpoon.
The Nautilus meanwhile had surfaced. One of the sailors, standing on the top steps,
was unscrewing the bolts of the hatch. But the bolts were hardly free when the hatch sud- denly shot open, clearly yanked up by the suckers on the arm of a squid.
Immediately one of those long arms slid like a snake into the opening as twenty others waved above. With a single axe blow, Captain Nemo severed the formidable tentacle, which then slid down the stairs, twisting.
While we were all rushing together towards the platform, two other arms, lashing through the air, landed on the sailor in front of Captain Nemo—and carried him off with irre- sistible force.
Captain Nemo exclaimed and rushed outside. We followed him as quickly as we could.
What a scene! The poor man, seized by the tentacle and glued to its suckers, was be- ing rocked in the air at the whim of its enormous trunk. He was groaning as he suffocated, and he was shouting: ‘Au secours! Au secours!’ These words in French flabbergasted me. So I had a compatriot on board, perhaps several! I will hear his heartbreaking appeal in my ears till the end of my life.
The unfortunate man was lost. Who could possibly have wrested him from that pow- erful embrace? However, Captain Nemo rushed at the squid, and with a single axe blow chopped off another arm. His first officer was angrily fighting other monsters crawling over
273
the sides of the Nautilus. The crew were attacking them with their axes. The Canadian, Con-
seil, and I were plunging our weapons into the fleshy masses. A strong smell of musk filled
the atmosphere. It was horrible.
For a moment I thought that the poor man enlaced by the squid could be rescued from its powerful suction. Seven arms out of eight had been severed. A single one, brandishing the victim like a quill, remained twisting in the air. But just as Captain Nemo and his deputy were rushing at the animal, it gave out a spurt of blackish liquid, secreted from a bursa in its abdomen.339 We were blinded. By the time the cloud had cleared, the squid had vanished, carrying with it my unfortunate compatriot.340
Then our rage boiled over against the monsters. We were no longer in control of our- selves. Ten or twelve squid had invaded the platform and sides of the Nautilus. We were slid- ing around in the midst of the truncated serpents, tossing about on the platform in waves of blood and black ink. It was as if the viscous tentacles were coming back to life again like Hy- dra’s heads. Ned Land’s harpoons plunged repeatedly into the glaucous eyes of the squid, de- stroying them with each blow. But my brave companion was suddenly knocked down by the tentacles of a monster he could not avoid.
God! My heart leapt with revulsion and horror! The formidable squid’s beak gaped open before Ned. The poor man was about to be cut in two. I rushed to help him. But Captain Nemo had got there before me and his axe disappeared between the two enormous jaws. Mi- raculously saved, the Canadian got up and drove his harpoon right through the triple heart of the squid.
‘For services rendered!’ Captain Nemo said.
Ned bowed without replying.
The battle had lasted for a mere quarter of an hour. The vanquished monsters, muti-
lated and terribly wounded, finally retreated and then disappeared under the waves.
Captain Nemo, red341 with blood, motionless near the searchlight, examined the sea
which had swallowed up one of his companions, as large tears flowed from his eyes.
339. a spurt of blackish liquid, secreted from a bursa in its abdomen: some of the symbolism of this battle scene may derive from the ‘black ink’ and the ‘quill’ mentioned in it, perhaps referring to the struggle of writing and hence to Nemo’s remark to Aronnax that his ‘ink will be the liquid se- creted by a cuttlefish or squid’.
340. with it my unfortunate compatriot: the musk smell and dark liquid are similar to descriptions going back to Pontoppidan and Pliny. But this scene bears a close resemblance to what a Captain Jean Magnus Dens told Pierre Denys (de) Montfort (director of the Natural History Museum, cited by Hugo, but apparently later convicted of forgery). Montfort’s Histoire naturelle, générale et particu- lière des mollusques (1802–5), states that ‘poulpes’ can sink ships, and reports that Dens’s men were scraping their ship between St Helena and Cape Negro, when a huge animal rose from the water and threw a giant tentacle round two of them. Another arm seized a third man, who shouted for help. The crew cut off the monster’s arm with axes and knives, and several harpoons were driven into the mon- ster, but to little effect, and it eventually carried off the two sailors. The third man was delirious and died the following night. The arm cut off was 25 feet long, as thick as a mizzen yard, and had suckers as big as saucepan lids. In reality, although little is known about the giant squid, there are very few authentic accounts of squid attacking ships or people. But Dens’s story (perhaps together with Bouyer’s monster) is surely a source for Verne’s dramatic episode.
341. red: MS2 has ‘red and black’, a clear reference to Stendhal’s novel, but also a striking con- junction of blood and ink.
274
For a moment I thought that the poor man enlaced by the squid could be rescued from its powerful suction. Seven arms out of eight had been severed. A single one, brandishing the victim like a quill, remained twisting in the air. But just as Captain Nemo and his deputy were rushing at the animal, it gave out a spurt of blackish liquid, secreted from a bursa in its abdomen.339 We were blinded. By the time the cloud had cleared, the squid had vanished, carrying with it my unfortunate compatriot.340
Then our rage boiled over against the monsters. We were no longer in control of our- selves. Ten or twelve squid had invaded the platform and sides of the Nautilus. We were slid- ing around in the midst of the truncated serpents, tossing about on the platform in waves of blood and black ink. It was as if the viscous tentacles were coming back to life again like Hy- dra’s heads. Ned Land’s harpoons plunged repeatedly into the glaucous eyes of the squid, de- stroying them with each blow. But my brave companion was suddenly knocked down by the tentacles of a monster he could not avoid.
God! My heart leapt with revulsion and horror! The formidable squid’s beak gaped open before Ned. The poor man was about to be cut in two. I rushed to help him. But Captain Nemo had got there before me and his axe disappeared between the two enormous jaws. Mi- raculously saved, the Canadian got up and drove his harpoon right through the triple heart of the squid.
‘For services rendered!’ Captain Nemo said.
Ned bowed without replying.
The battle had lasted for a mere quarter of an hour. The vanquished monsters, muti-
lated and terribly wounded, finally retreated and then disappeared under the waves.
Captain Nemo, red341 with blood, motionless near the searchlight, examined the sea
which had swallowed up one of his companions, as large tears flowed from his eyes.
339. a spurt of blackish liquid, secreted from a bursa in its abdomen: some of the symbolism of this battle scene may derive from the ‘black ink’ and the ‘quill’ mentioned in it, perhaps referring to the struggle of writing and hence to Nemo’s remark to Aronnax that his ‘ink will be the liquid se- creted by a cuttlefish or squid’.
340. with it my unfortunate compatriot: the musk smell and dark liquid are similar to descriptions going back to Pontoppidan and Pliny. But this scene bears a close resemblance to what a Captain Jean Magnus Dens told Pierre Denys (de) Montfort (director of the Natural History Museum, cited by Hugo, but apparently later convicted of forgery). Montfort’s Histoire naturelle, générale et particu- lière des mollusques (1802–5), states that ‘poulpes’ can sink ships, and reports that Dens’s men were scraping their ship between St Helena and Cape Negro, when a huge animal rose from the water and threw a giant tentacle round two of them. Another arm seized a third man, who shouted for help. The crew cut off the monster’s arm with axes and knives, and several harpoons were driven into the mon- ster, but to little effect, and it eventually carried off the two sailors. The third man was delirious and died the following night. The arm cut off was 25 feet long, as thick as a mizzen yard, and had suckers as big as saucepan lids. In reality, although little is known about the giant squid, there are very few authentic accounts of squid attacking ships or people. But Dens’s story (perhaps together with Bouyer’s monster) is surely a source for Verne’s dramatic episode.
341. red: MS2 has ‘red and black’, a clear reference to Stendhal’s novel, but also a striking con- junction of blood and ink.
274
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