Part 1 · Chapter 21Captain Nemo’s Thunderbolt

Captain Nemo’s Thunderbolt. We peeked out at the edge of the woods without moving, my hand freezing mid-reach to my mouth, Ned Land’s finishing the job.

"Stones don’t just fall from the sky," Conseil pointed out, "or they’d be called aerolites."

A second stone, thrown on purpose, made a tasty pigeon leg drop from Conseil’s hand, really backing up his point. We all jumped up, grabbed our guns, and were ready for anything.

"Are they apes?" Ned Land yelled.

"Pretty much - they’re savages."

"To the boat!" I said, rushing toward the sea.

It was definitely time to retreat. About twenty locals, armed with bows and slings, showed up on the edge of a thicket hiding the horizon to the right, barely a hundred steps away.

Our boat was tied up about sixty feet away. The locals approached us, not running, but making it clear they were hostile. Stones and arrows rained down.

Ned Land didn’t want to leave his supplies behind, and even though he was in serious danger, he hauled his pig on one side and kangaroos on the other, moving surprisingly fast. In two minutes, we were on the shore.

Loading the boat with supplies and weapons, and pushing it out to sea and setting up the oars, all happened in a flash. We hadn’t gone two boat-lengths when a hundred locals, yelling and waving their arms, waded into the water up to their waists.

I looked to see if their appearance would bring some guys from the Nautilus onto the platform, but nothing. The huge machine, sitting just offshore, was totally empty.

Twenty minutes later, we were back on board. The hatches were open. After securing the boat, we headed inside the Nautilus.

I went down to the living room, where I could hear some chords. Captain Nemo was there, hunched over his organ, completely lost in the music. "Captain!" He didn’t hear me.

"Captain!" I said, touching his hand.

He jumped, and when he turned around, he said, "Oh, it’s you, Professor? Did you have a good hunt? Did you find some cool plants?"

"Yeah, Captain, but we accidentally brought along a bunch of two-legged locals, and they’re kind of stressing me out." "What locals?" "Savages."

"Savages!" he echoed, sarcastically.

"You’re surprised, Professor, that you stepped onto a new land and found locals? Locals! Where aren’t there any? Besides, are they worse than others, these whom you call savages? "But Captain - - " "How many did you count? "At least a hundred."

"M. Aronnax," Captain Nemo replied, putting his fingers on the organ stops, "when all the locals of Papua are gathered on this shore, the Nautilus won’t have anything to worry about from their attacks."

The Captain’s fingers were then dancing over the keys, and I noticed he only touched the black keys, giving his music a really Scottish feel. Soon he forgot I was even there and got lost in his own thoughts, which I didn't want to interrupt.

I went back up onto the platform: night had already fallen; in this area, the sun goes down quickly and without much twilight. I could barely make out the island, but the many fires burning on the beach showed that the locals weren’t planning on leaving.

I was alone for hours, sometimes thinking about the locals - but not really scared, because the Captain’s confidence was contagious - sometimes forgetting about them to enjoy the beauty of the tropical night.

My thoughts drifted back to France, following the patterns of the zodiacal stars that would appear in a few hours. The moon shone among the constellations high overhead.

The night passed without any trouble, the locals probably spooked by the sight of a giant thing stuck in the bay. The hatches were open, making it easy to get inside the Nautilus.

At six in the morning on January eighth, I headed up to the platform. Dawn was breaking, and the island soon appeared through the fog - first the coastline, then the peaks.

There were way more natives than the day before - maybe five or six hundred. Some of them, taking advantage of the low tide, had made their way onto the coral, just a couple of hundred yards from the Nautilus.

I could easily spot them; they were true Papuans, athletic guys, a good-looking bunch, with high foreheads, big (but not flat) noses, and white teeth. Their woolly, reddish hair stood out against their dark, shiny skin, like it did for Nubians. Dangling from their ears were necklaces made of bones.

Most of them were naked. I noticed some women too, wearing skirts made of herbs that formed a kind of leafy waistband. Some of the chiefs had decorated their necks with crescent-shaped necklaces and collars of red and white glass beads.

Almost all of them were armed with bows, arrows, and shields, and carried a net on their shoulders filled with those round stones they used to fling from their slings with incredible skill. One of these chiefs, pretty close to the Nautilus, was checking it out.

He was probably a high-ranking guy - a "mado," maybe - because he was draped in a mat of banana leaves with colorful, notched edges.

I could’ve easily knocked him down, he was so close, but I figured it was better to wait for them to actually try something. When it comes to Europeans and natives, Europeans should defend themselves, not attack first.

During low tide, the natives wandered around near the Nautilus, but they weren't causing any trouble. I kept hearing them repeat the word "Assai," and from their gestures, I understood they were inviting me to come ashore, which I turned down.

So, the boat didn't leave that day, much to Master Land’s frustration, who couldnn't finish stocking up.

This clever Canadian spent his time getting the food and meat he’d brought from the island ready. The natives went back to the shore around eleven in the morning, as the coral started disappearing under the rising tide. I noticed there were a lot more of them on the beach.

They probably came from nearby islands, or maybe from Papua. Still, I hadn’t seen a single native canoe. Since I didn't have anything else to do, I decided to drag those beautiful, clear waters, where I could see tons of shells, zoophytes, and marine plants.

Plus, it was the last chance we had to be in this area, since Captain Nemo promised we’d be in the open ocean tomorrow.

I called Conseil, and he brought me a small drag, just like the ones used for oyster fishing. Let’s get to work! We fished for two hours straight, but didn’t find anything special. The drag was filled with midas-ears, harps, melames, and the most gorgeous hammers I'd ever seen.

We also pulled up some sea slugs, pearl oysters, and a dozen little turtles that we saved for the galley.

But just when I least expected it, I came across something amazing - I’m talking a real natural oddity, something you don't see every day. Conseil was dragging, and his net came up full of regular shells, when I suddenly plunged my arm into the net to pull out a shell, and he heard me shout.

"What’s wrong, sir?" he asked, surprised. "Did something bite you?"

"No, my boy, but I’d have given a finger for what I found." "What did you find?"

"This shell," I said, holding up the object of my excitement.

"It’s just an olive porphyry, olive genus, pectinibranchidæ order, gasteropod class, mollusca sub-class."

"Yeah, Conseil; but instead of spinning from right to left, this olive spins from left to right." "Seriously?"

"Yep, my boy; it’s a left-handed shell."

Shells are usually right-handed, with super rare exceptions; and when you find one that spins left, collectors will pay a fortune for it.

Conseil and I were totally checking out our treasure, and I was already planning to donate it to the museum, when a stone, thrown by some local, unfortunately hit and broke the precious thing in Conseil’s hand. I yelled in despair!

Conseil grabbed his gun and aimed at a guy who was winding up his slingshot, just ten yards away. I would have stopped him, but his shot hit, and it smashed the bracelet of charms around the savage’s arm. Conseil grabbed his gun.

"Conseil!" I shouted. "Conseil!"

"What, sir? Don’t you see that the cannibal’s starting an attack?"

"A shell isn’t worth a person’s life," I said.

"Ugh, the jerk!" said Conseil; "I’d rather he’d broken my shoulder!" Conseil was serious, but I didn’t see it the same way. But the situation had shifted a bit, and we hadn't noticed. A bunch of canoes surrounded the Nautilus.

These canoes, carved out of tree trunks, long, narrow, and perfect for speed, were balanced by a long bamboo pole floating in the water. Skilled, half-naked paddlers were managing them, and I watched them get closer with some worry.

It was clear that these Papuans had dealt with Europeans before and knew about their ships. But this long iron cylinder anchored in the bay, with no masts or smokestacks, what could they think it was? Nothing good, because at first they kept their distance.

But seeing it still, they slowly got bolder and tried to get closer. And that closeness is exactly what we needed to avoid. Our weapons, which were silent, couldn't really scare the savages, who don’t respect anything but loud displays of power.

A lightning bolt without the thunder wouldn't scare people much, even though the danger is in the lightning, not the noise. Just then, the canoes approached the Nautilus, and a rain of arrows landed on it. I headed down to the saloon, but nobody was there.

I knocked on the door that led to the Captain’s room. "Come in," came the reply.

I went in and found Captain Nemo deep in algebra, working on x and other equations.

"I’m interrupting you," I said, out of politeness.

"That’s true, M. Aronnax," replied the Captain; "but I think you have serious reasons for wanting to see me?"

"Really serious ones; the natives are surrounding us in their canoes, and in a few minutes we’re definitely going to be attacked by hundreds of savages."

"Ah!" said Captain Nemo quietly, "they’re here with their canoes?" "Yep, sir."

"Well, sir, we need to seal the hatches."

"Exactly, and I came to tell you - - "

"Nothing could be easier," said Captain Nemo.

And, pressing an electric button, he sent an order to the ship’s crew.

"It’s done, sir," he said after a moment. " The pinnace is ready, and the hatches are sealed. You don’t think these guys could smash walls that your frigate’s cannonballs haven’t touched, do you?"

"No, Captain; but there’s still a danger." "What is it, sir?"

"It’s that tomorrow, around this time, we need to open the hatches to get some fresh air. If the Papuans are on the platform right then, I don’t see how you could stop them from getting in."

"So, you think they’ll board us?" "I’m sure of it."

"Well, sir, let them come. I donn't see why we should stop them. After all, these Papuans are just poor people, and I’m not okay with my visit to the island costing anyone their life."

Then I was about to leave, but Captain Nemo stopped me and asked me to sit down with him. He was really interested in our trips on shore and our hunting, but he didn’t seem to get why the Canadian was so hungry for meat.

Then the conversation shifted to different topics, and even though he wasn't super open, Captain Nemo seemed friendlier.

We happened to be talking about the Nautilus getting stuck in the same spot in this strait where Dumont d’Urville almost got lost. Speaking of that:

"This D’Urville was one of your top sailors," the Captain said to me, "one of your smartest navigators. He’s like the Captain Cook of the French."

"Unfortunate scientist - he braved the icebergs of the South Pole, the coral reefs of Oceania, and faced off against cannibals in the Pacific, only to die in a train wreck! If this energetic guy could have thought about anything during his last moments, what do you think would have been on his mind?"

As he said that, Captain Nemo seemed really affected, and it made me think better of him.

Then, with a chart in hand, we reviewed the travels of the French navigator - his voyages around the world, his two long stays at the South Pole, which led to the discovery of Adelaide and Louis Philippe, and figuring out the locations of the major islands of Oceania.

"What your D’Urville did on the surface of the seas," said Captain Nemo, "that’s what I’ve done under them, and even better, more completely. The Astrolabe and the Zelee, constantly tossed around by storms, couldn’t compare to the Nautilus, a quiet workshop that’s totally still in the water."

"Tomorrow," added the Captain, getting up, "tomorrow, at two:forty p.m., the Nautilus will float and leave the Strait of Torres without a scratch."

Having said those words, Captain Nemo nodded slightly. That was his way of dismissing me, so I went back to my room.

There, I found Conseil, who wanted to know how my conversation with the Captain went.

"My boy," I said, "when I pretended to believe that the Nautilus was threatened by the natives of Papua, the Captain answered me in a really sarcastic way. I just have one thing to say to you: Trust him, and go to sleep in peace. "Do you need my help, sir?"

"No, my friend. What’s Ned Land up to?"

"If you don’t mind, sir," Conseil answered, "Ned’s busy making a kangaroo pie that’s going to be amazing."

I was left alone and went to bed, but I didn’t sleep well. I could hear the natives stomping on the deck, shouting loud cries. The night passed like that, without really bothering the crew.

Those cannibals didn’t affect them any more than soldiers on a hidden battery care about the ants crawling over it.

At six in the morning, I woke up. The hatches hadn't been opened. The air inside wasn’t being refreshed, but the storage tanks, filled and ready for anything, released several cubic feet of oxygen into the stale air of the Nautilus.

I worked in my room until noon, without even catching a glimpse of Captain Nemo. There were no signs of preparations for leaving anywhere on board.

I waited a bit longer, then went into the large salon. The clock showed a little after two. In ten minutes, it would be high tide, and if Captain Nemo hadn’t made a crazy promise, the Nautilus would be free. Otherwise, it could be months before she could leave her bed of coral.

We started feeling some weird vibrations in the boat. I could hear the keel scraping against the rough, rocky bottom of the coral reef.

At five twenty-five, Captain Nemo showed up in the main room. "We’re leaving," he said. "Seriously?" I replied.

"I told the crew to open the hatches." "What about the Papuans?"

"The Papuans?" Captain Nemo shrugged a little.

"Aren’t they going to come inside the Nautilus?" "How?"

"Just by jumping over the hatches you opened?"

"M. Aronnax," Captain Nemo said quietly, "they won’t come inside the Nautilus like that, even if the hatches are open." I looked at the Captain. "You don’t get it?" he said. "Not really." "Come on, then. You’ll see."

I headed for the main staircase. Ned Land and Conseil were secretly watching some of the crew open the hatches, while shouts of anger and scared yells echoed outside.

The outside doors were slammed shut. Twenty scary faces showed up. But the first native who put his hand on the railing was suddenly knocked back from behind by something invisible, I don’t know what, and he ran off screaming and twisting in fear.

Ten of his friends followed him. They had the same thing happen to them.

Conseil was totally hyped. Ned Land, fueled by his intense instincts, rushed to the staircase. But the second he grabbed the rail with both hands, he was knocked over too.

"I got hit by lightning!" he yelled, cursing.

That explained everything. It wasn’t a railing at all; it was a metal cable charged with electricity from the deck, connected to the platform. Anyone who touched it got a huge shock - and that shock would have been deadly if Captain Nemo had released the full force of the current into the cable.

You could say he’s created a wall of electricity between himself and his attackers, that nobody could cross without getting zapped.

Meanwhile, the super-freaked-out Papuans retreated in terror. We, on the other hand, were half-laughing and comforting and rubbing the poor Ned Land, who was cursing up a storm.

But at that moment, the Nautilus, lifted by the last waves of the tide, left her coral bed exactly at the fortieth minute the Captain had set. Her propeller churned the water slowly and powerfully.

Her speed increased gradually, and, sailing on the surface of the ocean, she safely cleared the dangerous passages of the Torres Strait.