Part 1 · Chapter 6At Full Steam

At that shout, the whole ship’s crew scrambled toward the harpooner - the commander, officers, captains, sailors, even the cabin boys. Even the engineers left their engines, and the stokers their furnaces.

The order to stop had been given, and the frigate just kept going on its own momentum. It was pitch-black, and I wondered how the Canadian could even see, and what he could possibly be seeing. My heart pounded like crazy.

But Ned Land was right, and we all saw what he was pointing at.

About two lengths of rope away from the Abraham Lincoln, on the right side of the ship, the sea seemed to glow all over. It wasn't just some random light show.

The monster surfaced, way below the water, and then blasted out this incredibly bright, but totally weird light, like the reports from other captains had described. That amazing glow had to be from something seriously powerful.

The light made a huge, long oval shape on the water, with a burning center that faded away gradually.

"It’s just a bunch of glowing particles," one of the officers yelled.

"Nah, definitely not," I replied.

"I’ve never seen anything like that from jellyfish or salps. That brightness is totally electrical. Plus, look, look! It's moving - forward, backward, darting towards us!"

A wave of shouts went up from the frigate.

"Quiet!" the Captain ordered. " Hard to port, reverse engines!"

The steam was shut off, and the Abraham Lincoln, turning to the left, curved around.

"Hard to starboard, go ahead!" the Captain shouted.

They did it, and the frigate sped away from the bright light.

I was wrong. She tried to steer clear, but this crazy animal was coming at us twice as fast.

We gasped for air. We were more shocked than scared, so we just stood there, frozen. The animal was gaining on us, playing with the waves.

It circled the frigate - we were going about fourteen miles an hour - and wrapped it in glowing rings like sparkling dust.

Then it zipped away a couple of miles, leaving a trail of glowing water, like the steam from a high-speed train.

Suddenly, from the dark line of the horizon where it disappeared to build up speed, the monster shot toward the Abraham Lincoln with alarming speed, stopped suddenly about twenty feet from the hull, and just.. .

vanished - not diving under the water, because the glow didn’t fade - but suddenly, like the source of the light just ran out.

Then it popped up on the other side of the ship, like it had turned and slid underneath. A collision could have happened at any moment, and it would have been a disaster for us. But I was amazed at how the frigate was handling things.

It was running, not fighting.

The Captain’s face, usually so calm, was full of disbelief.

"M. Aronnax," he said, "I don’t know what kind of creature I’m dealing with, and I’m not going to risk my frigate in this darkness. Besides, how can you attack something like that, how can you defend yourself?

Wait for daylight, and things will change."

"Are you absolutely sure now about what kind of animal it is, Captain?"

"No doubt, sir; it's clearly a gigantic narwhal, and an electric one."

"Maybe," I added, "you can only approach it with an electric eel or a torpedo."

"Undoubtedly," the Captain replied, "if it has that kind of power, it’s the most terrifying animal ever created. That’s why, sir, I have to be careful."

The crew had been up all night. Sleep wasn’t even an option. The Abraham Lincoln, struggling to keep up with the speed, had slowed down to half speed.

The narwhal, mimicking the frigate, just let the waves rock it, and seemed totally set on sticking around for the fight.

Around midnight, though, it vanished - or, to put it another way, it just "died out" like a giant glow-worm. Had it run off? We could only fear the worst.

But then, just seven minutes before one in the morning, we heard this crazy, deafening whistling sound, like a ton of water rushing by really fast.

The captain, Ned Land, and I were up on the poop deck, trying to see through the pitch-black darkness.

"Ned Land," asked the commander, "you’ve heard whales roar before, right?"

"Loads of times, sir," replied Ned. " But nothing like this - seeing one like that brought me two grand! If I could just get close enough, within four harpoon lengths!"

"But getting that close," said the commander, "I’d have to give you a whaling boat, wouldn't I?" "Definitely, sir."

"That’s risking my men’s lives."

"And mine too," said the harpooner simply.

Around two o’clock in the morning, the bright light popped back up, just as intense, about five miles ahead of the Abraham Lincoln.

Even with the distance and the wind and waves, we could hear the loud thumps of its tail, and even its heavy breathing.

It seemed like when the massive narwhal came up to take a breath, it swallowed a whole bunch of air, like steam in the giant cylinders of a two-thousand-horsepower engine.

"Whoa," I thought, "a whale with the strength of a cavalry regiment would be something!"

We stayed on high alert until daylight, ready for a fight. The fishing gear was laid out along the ropes.

The second lieutenant loaded the blunderbusses, which could throw harpoons a mile, and the duck-guns with explosive bullets that could seriously hurt even the toughest animals.

Ned Land just focused on sharpening his harpoon - a seriously dangerous weapon in his hands.

At six o’clock, day started to break. And with the first hint of light, the narwhal’s electric light disappeared.

Seven o’clock, the day was bright enough, but a really thick sea fog rolled in, and even the best binoculars couldn’t see through it. That was a total letdown and made everyone mad.

I climbed the mizzen-mast. Some officers were already up there. At eight o’clock, the fog was heavy on the waves, and its thick swirls started to lift. The horizon got wider and clearer at the same time.

Suddenly, just like the day before, we heard Ned Land’s voice:

"There it is, on the port side!" yelled the harpooner.

Everyone turned to look. There, a mile and a half from the frigate, a long, dark body broke the surface, about a yard above the waves. Its tail was thrashing around, creating a big whirlpool.

Never had I seen a tail beat the sea with such force.

An enormous, bright-white track showed where the animal had passed, curving across the water.

The frigate started moving towards the whale. I took a good look at it.

The reports from the Shannon and the Helvetia had kind of exaggerated its size, and I figured it was only about two hundred and fifty feet long. As for its shape, I could only guess that it was perfectly proportioned.

While I was watching this crazy sight, two blasts of steam and water shot out of its vents, rising about one hundred and twenty feet in the air. That’s how I figured out how it breathed.

I was totally sure it belonged to the vertebrate group, mammal class.

The crew waited impatiently for the captain’s orders. The captain, after carefully watching the animal, called over the engineer. The engineer rushed over to him.

"Sir," said the commander, "got any steam up?"

"Yeah, sir," answered the engineer.

"Alright, fire up the engines and give it all you got." Three cheers went up at this order.

The time for the fight was here. A few moments later, the frigate’s two smokestacks blasted out huge clouds of black smoke, and the deck shook from the boiler’s rumble.

The Abraham Lincoln, powered by her incredible propeller, shot straight at the creature.

The thing let it get within half a cable’s length; then, like it was too good to dive, it made a quick turn and stopped a short distance off.

This chase lasted almost three-quarters of an hour, and the frigate barely gained two yards on the whale.

It was clear we weren't going to catch it at that speed.

"So, Mr. Land," asked the captain, "should we launch the boats?"

"No, sir," replied Ned Land; "we won’t take down that beast easily." "What do we do then?"

"Give it more steam if you can, sir. With your permission, I’m going to post myself under the bowsprit, and if we get close enough to harpoon, I’ll throw it."

"Go ahead, Ned," said the captain.

"Engineer, crank up the pressure." Ned Land headed to his spot.

The fires blazed hotter, the propeller spun forty-three times a minute, and steam poured from the valves. We dropped the log, and figured the Abraham Lincoln was going eighteen one-half miles an hour.

But the crazy animal was swimming at eighteen one-half miles an hour too.

For a whole hour, the frigate kept up that pace, gaining only six feet. It was embarrassing for one of the fastest ships in the American navy.

A wave of frustration hit the crew; the sailors yelled at the monster, who, as before, ignored them.

The captain stopped just twisting his beard - he started chewing on it. The engineer was called over again. "Full steam ahead?"

"Yes, sir," replied the engineer.

The Abraham Lincoln’s speed increased. Its masts trembled, and the clouds of smoke could barely escape the narrow smokestacks. They dropped the log a second time.

"Well?" asked the captain of the man at the wheel.

"Nineteen miles and three-tenths, sir."

"Give it more steam!" The engineer complied.

The pressure gauge hit ten degrees. But the cetacean was warming up too, no doubt; without even trying, it was doing nineteen-three tenth miles. What a chase! I can’t even describe the feeling that ran through me.

Ned Land stayed at his post, harpoon in hand.

A few times the animal let us close in - "We’re gonna get it! We’re gonna get it!" yelled the Canadian.

But just as he was about to strike, the cetacean darted away with a speed that had to be at least thirty miles an hour, and even at our top speed, it was circling the frigate.

A cry of fury erupted from everyone! By noon, we hadn't made any progress compared to this morning. The captain then decided to try something more direct.

"Hey," he said, "that animal is faster than the Abraham Lincoln. Fine! Let’s see if it can outrun these conical bullets. Send your men to the bow, sir." The forecastle gun was quickly loaded and swiveled around.

But the shot sailed over the cetacean, which was half a mile away.

"Another, a bit to the right," shouted the commander, "and five dollars to whoever hits that awful beast."

An old gunner with a gray beard - I can picture him now - with a steady eye and serious face, stepped up to the gun and took a long aim. A loud boom echoed, mixed with the cheers of the crew.

An old gray-bearded gunner... The bullet did its job; it hit the animal, but not fatally, and sliding off the rounded surface, disappeared into the two-mile-deep ocean. The chase started up again, and the captain, leaning towards me, said -

"I’ll chase that beast until my frigate falls apart."

"Yeah," I said; "and you’re totally right to do it."

I really wished that thing would just wear itself out, you know, not act like some unstoppable steam engine! But no luck. Hours went by, and it didn’t even seem tired.

But gotta give props to the Abraham Lincoln; she kept pushing forward, seriously. I couldn’t even guess how far we traveled - probably over three hundred miles - on this crazy day, November sixth.

But then night fell, and the ocean got all dark and rough.

I figured our trip was over, and we’d never see that wild animal again. Turns out, I was wrong. At ten minutes to eleven that night, the electric light popped back up, three miles ahead of the frigate - just as bright and intense as before.

The narwhal looked totally still; maybe it was exhausted from the day and just dozing off, letting the waves rock it. The captain saw this as a chance and decided to go for it.

He gave the orders. The Abraham Lincoln kept going at half speed, creeping closer so we wouldn’t wake up our opponent. It’s not uncommon to find whales out in the middle of the ocean, so sleepy you can actually attack them.

Ned Land had harpooned a few while they were asleep.

The Canadian went to get back into position at the bowsprit.

The frigate moved silently, stopped about two lengths of rope away from the animal, and followed its path. Everyone was holding their breath; the bridge was completely quiet.

We were barely a hundred feet from that bright light, which made our eyes hurt and feel totally dazzled.

Just then, I saw Ned Land leaning on the front railing, gripping a rope with one hand and waving his huge harpoon with the other - he was only twenty feet from the still animal.

Suddenly, his arm shot out, and the harpoon flew; I heard the loud thud as it hit something solid.

The electric light went out instantly, and two massive geysers of water erupted over the bridge, rushing like a flood from front to back, knocking people over and breaking the ropes holding up the masts.

A huge jolt followed, and, without even having time to brace myself, I went over the railing and fell into the sea.