I crawled to the hatch and made my way back to the gallery. The storm was raging, and no one could stand upright. Finally at midnight Captain Nemo gave the orders to sink below the waves and escape the storm.
We headed northeast, away from the shores of New York. We were also moving away from Canada, much to Ned's despair. Like Captain Nemo, he spent most of his time alone during these days. But Conseil and I stuck together, gazing out the gallery windows and tracing our route on the map as we crossed the Atlantic.
By May 28 we were within 120 miles of Ireland. Ned came out of his cabin and peppered me with questions. Was the submarine headed for Great Britain? Did I think Captain Nemo would attempt to sail through the English Channel? Was he taking us near France? I had no idea what to reply because the captain remained in his cabin. We could only follow our course on the map.
During the day of May 31, the submarine traveled in circles; it seemed to be seeking a spot that it could not find. I was up on the platform at noon when Captain Nemo came to take the submarine's bearings—a task his lieutenant usually performed. He did not say a word to me, but he looked gloomier than ever. What could make him feel so unhappy? Was it because we were so close to European shores? Did he have some distressing memories of his abandoned country? Was he feeling remorse or regret? I was haunted by these questions and had a premonition that the captain's secrets would soon be revealed.
The next day, June 1, the Nautilus continued to hunt for something in the water. Again it was Captain Nemo who came up to the platform at noon. The sea was beautiful and the sky was clear. Off to the east I could see a large steamship on the horizon about eight miles away. No flag fluttered from its mast, so I couldn't tell its country of origin. The captain took the submarine's bearings.
"It is here," he said as he turned and went below.
Had he seen the steamship, which was now changing course and seemed to be heading for us? I could not tell. I returned to the gallery and the Nautilus began to sink. A few minutes later, it rested on the sea bottom at a depth of 2,500 feet. I looked through one of the windows and saw nothing except quiet water. But through the other window I saw a large object encrusted with white shells. As I looked closer, I realized that it was a ship that must have sunk a long time ago.
"At one time that ship was called the Marseillais, but it was renamed," said Captain Nemo, who had appeared at my side. "After a heroic battle, it sank with 356 sailors onboard rather than surrender to the British in 1794. Today is the anniversary of its sinking."
My eyes widened as I recalled my French history. "You mean that's the Avenger?" I exclaimed.
"Yes, the Avenger," said Captain Nemo, stretching out his hand toward the wreck. "A good name!"
My eyes did not leave the captain, who was gazing reverently at the wreck. I might never know Captain Nemo's real name, where he was from, or where he was going. But I had just seen him moved by this shipwreck, and that gave me a clue to his character and his past. It was a strange hatred that had locked Captain Nemo inside the Nautilus with his crew. And it was a hatred that time could not diminish. I wondered if he still hungered for revenge.
The Nautilus began to slowly rise to the surface, and the Avenger disappeared from view. Soon a slight rolling motion told me that we were in the open air. At that moment I heard a dull boom. I looked at the captain, but he did not move.
"Captain!" I said. "What was that sound?"
He did not answer, so I left him and climbed up to the platform. Ned and Conseil were already there.
"Where did that sound come from?" I asked.
"It was cannon fire," replied Ned.
I looked toward the east, where I had last seen that steamship. It was headed straight for us and putting on steam, but it was still miles away.
"What is that ship, Ned?" I asked.
"From its rigging and sails, it looks like a warship," said Ned. "May it reach us, and, if necessary, sink this cursed submarine."
"Now, how will it do that?" asked Conseil. "It can't fire at us if we sink beneath the waves."
I didn't give Ned a chance to respond. "Can you recognize which country it belongs to?" I asked.
Ned squinted at the ship in the distance for a few moments.
"No, Professor Aronnax. I can't tell where it's from because it's not flying any flag. But it's definitely a warship because there's a long pennant flying from its mainmast."
For a quarter of an hour, we watched the ship rapidly steaming toward us. Thick black smoke was pouring from its two funnels. I had a hard time believing that anyone could see the Nautilus from that distance, but the ship did seem focused on us.
"Professor," said Ned, "if that vessel passes within a mile of us, I'm going to throw myself into the sea, and I advise you two to do the same. It will pick us up and we'll be off this wretched submarine for good."
I didn't reply to Ned's suggestion but continued to watch the ship approach.
"Master, you may recall that we have some experience with swimming," said Conseil.
"Yes, Conseil, I remember that—"
I stopped speaking as a puff of white smoke burst from the bow of the ship. A few seconds later, something heavy made a big splash near the submarine's stern, and I heard a loud explosion.
"What? They're firing at us!" I exclaimed. "Surely they can see that there are men onboard."
"That may be exactly why they're firing on us." Ned looked at me.
And suddenly I understood what was happening. I thought back to November when we were hunting the giant narwhal onboard the Abraham Lincoln. When Ned's harpoon hit the Nautilus, Captain Farragut must have realized that he was dealing with a dangerous submarine and not a sea creature. He obviously hadn't kept that news to himself. Ships had probably been crisscrossing the oceans in search of this underwater vessel ever since.
To my horror, I also realized that Captain Nemo had used the Nautilus as an instrument of revenge. On the night when he'd locked us in that cell and drugged our food, the submarine must have attacked another ship. The man buried in the coral cemetery must have died in that battle. Someone knew who Captain Nemo really was. Someone knew that he was out to avenge some horrible wrong, and now whole nations were hunting him down!
I faced the grim truth. Instead of meeting friends onboard this approaching ship, we could only expect merciless enemies.