CHAPTER 2

The Pros and Cons

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DURING THE PERIOD in which these developments were occurring,

I had returned from a scientific undertaking organized to explore

the Nebraska badlands in the United States.  In my capacity as

Assistant Professor at the Paris Museum of Natural History, I had

been attached to this expedition by the French government.

After spending six months in Nebraska, I arrived in New York laden

with valuable collections near the end of March.  My departure

for France was set for early May.  In the meantime, then, I was busy

classifying my mineralogical, botanical, and zoological treasures

when that incident took place with the Scotia.

I was perfectly abreast of this question, which was the big news

of the day, and how could I not have been?  I had read and reread every

American and European newspaper without being any farther along.

This mystery puzzled me.  Finding it impossible to form any views,

I drifted from one extreme to the other.  Something was out there,

that much was certain, and any doubting Thomas was invited to place

his finger on the Scotia's wound.

When I arrived in New York, the question was at the boiling point.

The hypothesis of a drifting islet or an elusive reef, put forward

by people not quite in their right minds, was completely eliminated.

And indeed, unless this reef had an engine in its belly, how could

it move about with such prodigious speed?

Also discredited was the idea of a floating hull or some other

enormous wreckage, and again because of this speed of movement.

So only two possible solutions to the question were left,

creating two very distinct groups of supporters:  on one side,

those favoring a monster of colossal strength; on the other,

those favoring an "underwater boat" of tremendous motor power.

Now then, although the latter hypothesis was completely admissible,

it couldn't stand up to inquiries conducted in both the New World

and the Old.  That a private individual had such a mechanism at his

disposal was less than probable.  Where and when had he built it,

and how could he have built it in secret?

Only some government could own such an engine of destruction,

and in these disaster-filled times, when men tax their ingenuity to

build increasingly powerful aggressive weapons, it was possible that,

unknown to the rest of the world, some nation could have been testing

such a fearsome machine.  The Chassepot rifle led to the torpedo,

and the torpedo has led to this underwater battering ram,

which in turn will lead to the world putting its foot down.

At least I hope it will.

But this hypothesis of a war machine collapsed in the face of formal

denials from the various governments.  Since the public interest

was at stake and transoceanic travel was suffering, the sincerity

of these governments could not be doubted.  Besides, how could

the assembly of this underwater boat have escaped public notice?

Keeping a secret under such circumstances would be difficult enough

for an individual, and certainly impossible for a nation whose

every move is under constant surveillance by rival powers.

So, after inquiries conducted in England, France, Russia, Prussia,

Spain, Italy, America, and even Turkey, the hypothesis of an underwater

Monitor was ultimately rejected.

And so the monster surfaced again, despite the endless witticisms

heaped on it by the popular press, and the human imagination soon

got caught up in the most ridiculous ichthyological fantasies.

After I arrived in New York, several people did me the honor

of consulting me on the phenomenon in question.  In France I had

published a two-volume work, in quarto, entitled The Mysteries

of the Great Ocean Depths.  Well received in scholarly circles,

this book had established me as a specialist in this pretty obscure field

of natural history.  My views were in demand.  As long as I could deny

the reality of the business, I confined myself to a flat "no comment."

But soon, pinned to the wall, I had to explain myself straight out.

And in this vein, "the honorable Pierre Aronnax, Professor at

the Paris Museum," was summoned by The New York Herald to formulate

his views no matter what.

I complied.  Since I could no longer hold my tongue, I let it wag.

I discussed the question in its every aspect, both political

and scientific, and this is an excerpt from the well-padded article

I published in the issue of April 30.

"Therefore," I wrote, "after examining these different hypotheses one

by one, we are forced, every other supposition having been refuted,

to accept the existence of an extremely powerful marine animal.

"The deepest parts of the ocean are totally unknown to us.

No soundings have been able to reach them.  What goes on in

those distant depths?  What creatures inhabit, or could inhabit,

those regions twelve or fifteen miles beneath the surface

of the water?  What is the constitution of these animals?

It's almost beyond conjecture.

"However, the solution to this problem submitted to me can take

the form of a choice between two alternatives.

"Either we know every variety of creature populating our planet,

or we do not.

"If we do not know every one of them, if nature still keeps

ichthyological secrets from us, nothing is more admissible than to accept

the existence of fish or cetaceans of new species or even new genera,

animals with a basically 'cast-iron' constitution that inhabit

strata beyond the reach of our soundings, and which some development

or other, an urge or a whim if you prefer, can bring to the upper

level of the ocean for long intervals.

"If, on the other hand, we do know every living species, we must

look for the animal in question among those marine creatures

already cataloged, and in this event I would be inclined to accept

the existence of a giant narwhale.

"The common narwhale, or sea unicorn, often reaches a length of

sixty feet.  Increase its dimensions fivefold or even tenfold, then give

this cetacean a strength in proportion to its size while enlarging

its offensive weapons, and you have the animal we're looking for.

It would have the proportions determined by the officers of the Shannon,

the instrument needed to perforate the Scotia, and the power

to pierce a steamer's hull.

"In essence, the narwhale is armed with a sort of ivory sword,

or lance, as certain naturalists have expressed it.

It's a king-sized tooth as hard as steel.  Some of these teeth have

been found buried in the bodies of baleen whales, which the narwhale

attacks with invariable success.  Others have been wrenched,

not without difficulty, from the undersides of vessels that narwhales

have pierced clean through, as a gimlet pierces a wine barrel.

The museum at the Faculty of Medicine in Paris owns one of these

tusks with a length of 2.25 meters and a width at its base

of forty-eight centimeters!

"All right then!  Imagine this weapon to be ten times stronger and

the animal ten times more powerful, launch it at a speed of twenty

miles per hour, multiply its mass times its velocity, and you get

just the collision we need to cause the specified catastrophe.

"So, until information becomes more abundant, I plump for a sea

unicorn of colossal dimensions, no longer armed with a mere lance

but with an actual spur, like ironclad frigates or those warships called

'rams,' whose mass and motor power it would possess simultaneously.

"This inexplicable phenomenon is thus explained away--unless it's

something else entirely, which, despite everything that has

been sighted, studied, explored and experienced, is still possible!"

These last words were cowardly of me; but as far as I could,

I wanted to protect my professorial dignity and not lay myself open

to laughter from the Americans, who when they do laugh, laugh raucously.

I had left myself a loophole.  Yet deep down, I had accepted

the existence of "the monster."

My article was hotly debated, causing a fine old uproar.

It rallied a number of supporters.  Moreover, the solution

it proposed allowed for free play of the imagination.

The human mind enjoys impressive visions of unearthly creatures.

Now then, the sea is precisely their best medium, the only setting

suitable for the breeding and growing of such giants--next to which

such land animals as elephants or rhinoceroses are mere dwarves.

The liquid masses support the largest known species of mammals and perhaps

conceal mollusks of incomparable size or crustaceans too frightful

to contemplate, such as 100-meter lobsters or crabs weighing 200

metric tons!  Why not?  Formerly, in prehistoric days, land animals

(quadrupeds, apes, reptiles, birds) were built on a gigantic scale.

Our Creator cast them using a colossal mold that time has gradually

made smaller.  With its untold depths, couldn't the sea keep alive

such huge specimens of life from another age, this sea that never

changes while the land masses undergo almost continuous alteration?

Couldn't the heart of the ocean hide the last-remaining

varieties of these titanic species, for whom years are centuries

and centuries millennia?

But I mustn't let these fantasies run away with me!  Enough of these

fairy tales that time has changed for me into harsh realities.

I repeat:  opinion had crystallized as to the nature of this phenomenon,

and the public accepted without argument the existence of a prodigious

creature that had nothing in common with the fabled sea serpent.

Yet if some saw it purely as a scientific problem to be solved,

more practical people, especially in America and England,

were determined to purge the ocean of this daunting monster, to insure

the safety of transoceanic travel.  The industrial and commercial

newspapers dealt with the question chiefly from this viewpoint.

The Shipping & Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd's List, France's Packetboat

and Maritime & Colonial Review, all the rags devoted to

insurance companies--who threatened to raise their premium rates--

were unanimous on this point.

Public opinion being pronounced, the States of the Union were

the first in the field.  In New York preparations were under way for

an expedition designed to chase this narwhale.  A high-speed frigate,

the Abraham Lincoln, was fitted out for putting to sea as soon

as possible.  The naval arsenals were unlocked for Commander Farragut,

who pressed energetically forward with the arming of his frigate.

But, as it always happens, just when a decision had been made to chase

the monster, the monster put in no further appearances.  For two months

nobody heard a word about it.  Not a single ship encountered it.

Apparently the unicorn had gotten wise to these plots being woven

around it.  People were constantly babbling about the creature,

even via the Atlantic Cable!  Accordingly, the wags claimed that this

slippery rascal had waylaid some passing telegram and was making

the most of it.

So the frigate was equipped for a far-off voyage and armed

with fearsome fishing gear, but nobody knew where to steer it.

And impatience grew until, on June 2, word came that the Tampico,

a steamer on the San Francisco line sailing from California to Shanghai,

had sighted the animal again, three weeks before in the northerly

seas of the Pacific.

This news caused intense excitement.  Not even a 24-hour breather was

granted to Commander Farragut.  His provisions were loaded on board.

His coal bunkers were overflowing.  Not a crewman was missing

from his post.  To cast off, he needed only to fire and stoke

his furnaces!  Half a day's delay would have been unforgivable!

But Commander Farragut wanted nothing more than to go forth.

I received a letter three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left

its Brooklyn pier;* the letter read as follows:

*Author's Note:  A pier is a type of wharf expressly set aside

for an individual vessel.

Pierre Aronnax

Professor at the Paris Museum

Fifth Avenue Hotel

New York

Sir:

If you would like to join the expedition on the Abraham Lincoln,

the government of the Union will be pleased to regard you as France's

representative in this undertaking.  Commander Farragut has a cabin

at your disposal.

Very cordially yours,

J. B. HOBSON,

Secretary of the Navy.

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