Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History Of A Dark Genius Part 26

iv

Rurapente's cove had become a ma.s.sive construction site. Ramps and scaffolding extended into the deep water. The sounds of Robur's slave workers hammering rivets echoed like gunfire off the close mountain walls. The slaves pounded hull plates, bent framework pipes, and twisted steel support ribs into proper shapes. Gritty smoke and chemical fumes from the refineries filled the air faster than ocean breezes could sweep the stench across the Mediterranean.

Nemo stood on a platform deck, directing construction and supervising the captive engineers and indentured workers. Rather than just watching, though, he spent most of his time up to his knees in water that sloshed into the drydocks. He tried to maintain the morale of the men, while searching for subtle ways to resist their despised captor.

The skeleton of his sub-marine craft was taking shape. Despite being forced to this labor against his will, Nemo admired what he had accomplished and felt pride in his design. If only the innovative vessel had been for a different purpose, other than hated war . . .

The bottom hull had been reinforced according to Cyrus Harding's instructions. The British boatbuilder teamed up with the German-born metallurgist to inspect the progress. Riveted plates crawled up the walls, sealing the underwater vessel so that it floated like a dragon inside the construction dock. Muscular Turkish slaves used hand-pumps to drain water from the bilges.

Nemo's son Jules was a year old now, a bright joy in an oppressive life. The boy had his mother's black hair and full mouth, and his father's determined, optimistic spirit. The child had no idea that his loving home was a prison camp. At times, the toddler's laughing eyes even made Nemo forget for a while.

The captive engineers had been away from their homelands for so long that they hardly remembered what a normal existence could be like. Few had left families behind, and after so many years their longing for Europe had deadened to a dull ache. Their lives were here, and now, and they had little hope for improvement. They worked on the undersea vessel and devoted their hearts to its completion -- for their own pride, not for their captor's.

When Caliph Robur returned to Rurapente after a three-week sojourn with the great Sultan, he rode his stallion down to the construction site. As he haughtily studied the incomplete vessel, his expression was not pleased. The warlord's narrow face twisted, and his skin darkened with rage, highlighting the scar along his cheek. Nemo looked at him and guessed that Robur was losing his continuing political battles against the conservative caliphs in Ankara.

Conseil, the French meteorologist, peeped out from his instrument shack at the end of the docks, noted Robur's stormy expression, and hid himself again. His bristly hair had grown into a haphazard shock of gray; his hangdog face continued to sunburn regularly despite years in the Turkish heat.

Nemo watched the angry caliph, then climbed away from the skeleton of the undersea boat to face him. For the sake of his men, he had to fend off Robur's capricious moods. He stood straight-backed in front of the turbaned man on the horse. "As you can see, Caliph," Nemo said, masking his sarcasm with pride, "we have made substantial progress during your absence."

The warlord scowled in disgust at the frame of the vessel. He spoke in a loud, sharp voice. "I bear news from Egypt that actual excavation has begun on the Suez Ca.n.a.l. Your French engineer de Lesseps is already digging the channel that will bring the downfall of the Ottoman Empire." His stallion pranced and snorted, sensing his rider's rage.

Robur's mouth twisted, as if he wanted to spit on the ground. "Unfortunately, my Sultan is blind to the implications, and so I must act alone, for his own good. He dismisses my concerns and listens instead to Barbicane and other fools who have no understanding of the new world we live in." Robur narrowed his dark eyes and stared for a moment at his captive engineers and scientists. "The Sultan thinks we are still fighting against primitive Tatars or Mongols. He does not see the need for my underwater wars.h.i.+p."

Nemo wondered if the caliph would cancel the project now, but knew the arrogant man would never surrender so easily. Perhaps the Sultan had commanded him to free all of his European prisoners -- but Nemo could not hope for that either. He suspected instead that he and his companions would be quietly disposed of, their bodies hidden. His fists clenched at his sides. He would fight with his bare hands, if necessary.

"Therefore, I must prove my vision is superior," the caliph continued, stroking his sharp black beard. "The Suez Ca.n.a.l must not be completed before we are ready. Your men must work faster and harder."

Skeptical, Nemo looked back at the construction site. He knew how frantic his men had been laboring in the hope of freedom once their task was completed. Nemo was certain by now that this hope was false. Caliph Robur would never allow the men to return to Europe, where they could reveal what this megalomaniac had done to them. He also knew that a project as ma.s.sive as the Suez Ca.n.a.l would require years of labor from thousands of people.

But Caliph Robur seemed to think it would be completed overnight. Instead, the warlord thrust a long finger toward Nemo and his men. "You have one year from today to complete this work. If at that time my sub-marine wars.h.i.+p is not ready, I will execute one of your men, and then another for every additional month you fail me."

The men voiced their objections. Nemo stepped forward, angry and defiant. "Sir, that cannot be done. We are already --"

Robur cut him off. "Everything can be done, given sufficient incentive." He placed a menacing hand on the hilt of his scimitar, wheeled his stallion, and rode back toward his lavish pavilion.

v

The first full-scale prototype of the underwater vessel was completed and launched ten months later, a gleaming metal predator able to submerge beneath the cove.

Instead of experiencing triumph as he watched the vessel sway against its moorings, Nemo felt deeply uneasy. Under Robur's threat of reprisals, the rushed engineers had worked haphazardly, cutting corners. The slave workers did not understand their work, and Nemo's engineers had no time to perform sufficient safety checks.

All around the construction site, Robur had increased the presence of his private guards. The bald men now stood with prominent scimitars tucked into waist sashes around their billowy white uniforms. Some of the burly guards made a point of carrying whetstones with which they sharpened their blades in the afternoon sun.

During an actual underwater voyage, Robur would need all of Nemo's trained men to sail the vessel -- but for the initial test, they would simply submerge and maneuver the sub-marine boat to the end of the cove to prove the vessel's integrity. The caliph sent seven of his trusted guards along, but refused to climb aboard the vessel himself. With good reason, too With good reason, too, Nemo thought with an unspoken sneer. The undersea boat was not safe.

Under the caliph's watchful eye, the hatches were sealed. Nemo took the helm, and the electrical engines thrummed, turning gears and motivators. The sub-marine boat pushed away from the docks into deeper water, its screws turning. Underwater propellers and mechanical fins swung back and forth.

Through the thick gla.s.s windows, Nemo watched the receding dock and saw Robur, still on his horse, his face expressionless. Nemo knew that Auda and their young son would be in the crowd, watching as well, and that thought tempered the constant ache of anger in his heart.

When the metal-walled vessel reached the end of the cove, Nemo tried not to think of the caliph's unreasonable demands. He scowled at the brutish guards aboard with him, then pushed them from his mind. Staring out to the blue panorama of the Mediterranean, he smiled at Cyrus Harding and the other two engineers he had brought along.

"Prepare to submerge, Mr. Harding."

"Yes, Captain." When Harding formally relayed the order, his gruff voice sounded tinny within the plated walls. The crewmen worked controls to open the ballast tanks, forcing air out and filling the chambers.

Holding tight to the helm rail, Nemo watched the waterline creep up on the thick gla.s.s portholes. He heard pumps and turbines, water gus.h.i.+ng into the tanks, saw air bubbles foaming around the body of the vessel. Though the hatches were sealed, Nemo glanced at the visible hull seams, watchful for leaks. Though this vessel had been created under duress, for an evil purpose to spread warfare across the seas, he still felt a pride in its design and construction.

Frothing water covered the dome of the s.h.i.+p. Perspiration glistened on the shaved scalps of the uneasy guards. They looked at each other and fidgeted, hands on the golden hilts of their scimitars, as if swords could do anything to conquer their fear.

Nemo made sure each one of the caliph's men saw his confident smile. Here, far from Robur, he was their master. Then he commanded more ballast tanks to be opened, and the vessel sank deeper.

In the rear of the main deck, one of his men shouted in alarm. Too late, Nemo heard the agonized groaning of stressed metal. Plates bent, and rivets popped like small bullets. Two of the lower ballast tanks burst, spraying gouts of seawater into the bottom decks. It all happened so fast.

The caliph's guards lumbered about in confusion, barking toothless threats at the crew. Nemo shoved them aside, ignoring them as he ordered the inner hatches sealed. Harding yelled for the crewmen to crank armored covers into place over the gla.s.s ports, but it was no use. The sub-marine boat began to fill with water from the ruptures. The stern tilted downward.

"We have no choice but to evacuate," Nemo said. The deck was at such an angle he had to climb to the upper hatch. Below, more of the main hull plates bent inward as the vessel sank deeper. "This s.h.i.+p can't be saved."

One of the guards drew his scimitar and snarled, but Nemo stopped him with a commanding look. He replied in clear Turkish, "Remain here if you like."

Robur's forced construction schedule had been too hectic. Additional support girders and hull reinforcements he had suggested on his original design had not been added. Forced by their tight deadline, Nemo had chosen to omit backup systems. Now they would pay for the oversight.

If they did not abandon the vessel now, they would plunge too deep into the channel for anyone to escape. His crew would never manage to swim to the surface before they drowned.

Nemo reached up to open the primary hatch, and a thunderous waterfall of brine poured down upon his head. Oddly, he now remembered the bladder helmet he had used as a teenager on the river Loire -- even that crude invention would have given him a few more breaths of air on his way up. But they had left Conseil's undersea helmets and diving suits in Rurapente. Robur had insisted they'd have no need for undersea exploration on this test voyage.

Nemo grabbed Cyrus Harding and his two engineers and forced them to climb through the water pounding from the hatch. The s.h.i.+p continued to plunge deeper and deeper. He looked at Robur's panicked guards, pitied them for a moment -- and chose to let h.e.l.l take the allies of the man who had stolen their lives from them. His heart felt utterly cold as he left them to die.

With powerful strokes, he swam into the deep water, surging toward the bright surface that seemed miles above. The pressure squeezed his skull and chest, but he stroked and kicked. In a dizzy, sickening instant he recalled when he had tried to rescue his father trapped beneath the Loire in the sinking hulk of the Cynthia Cynthia. He saw the shadowy forms of his crewmen overhead, rising with the flow of bubbles toward daylight. His need to get away grew more urgent.

Below, a cyclone of escaping air accompanied the plunge of the sub-marine.

Nemo swam until his arms ached and his lungs wanted to explode. He burst to the surface, heaving huge lungfuls of air. His men were beside him, panting, bedraggled, and exhausted. They looked at each other in dismay. Five of the caliph's guards also surfaced, while the sinking craft claimed the other two lives.

Sick at the disaster, seeing all their work wasted -- and dreading the consequences Caliph Robur was sure to impose -- Nemo and his weary men swam toward the distant sh.o.r.e.

vi

Caliph Robur began his b.l.o.o.d.y punishments before the full year was up.

Strident horns blew across the compound, summoning the dejected engineers from where they had begun work on a second vessel based on Nemo's modified design. The caliph's guards marched out, their shaved heads glistening in the Turkish sun, their loose white garments looking too clean.

The captive engineers knew something terrible lay in store for them, though they had done their best under impossible circ.u.mstances. Robur's own foolish impatience had been the root cause of the disaster.

Standing at the docks with industrial smoke hanging like a pall over the cove, Nemo stepped to the front of his team in an attempt to rea.s.sure them. During the Crimean War, Robur had coolly selected each man because of his individual expertise. Each one was valuable to this project, vital to the completion of the undersea vessel. But Nemo feared the warlord's rage would provoke him to unwise actions. . . .

The night after the first sub-marine craft had sunk, two-year-old Jules had played innocently on the carpets in their home, laughing. He was a good-natured boy, whose vivid imagination made a toy out of any sc.r.a.p of material. Auda played a stringed musical instrument and sang to Nemo, trying to soothe his despair.

"I have word from the Sultan's court at Ankara, my husband," she said in a low voice. "Caliph Robur finds himself in a terrible situation. My father has grown stronger, and Robur has lost the Sultan's support."

"Why?" Nemo said. "Because of what happened today?"

Auda shook her head. "For years, Robur has secretly diverted much of the Sultan's treasury to Rurapente, yet he still has nothing to show for it. My father, on the other hand, knows the power of sweet words, compliments, and promises . . . and he uses them daily on the Sultan's weak will. Caliph Barbicane gives the Sultan little gifts to show his loyalty, while Robur does not." She stroked his dark hair. "It is a game of politics, my beloved -- and Robur does not play it well."

Nemo looked at her, distracted by her beauty. Young Jules chuckled in a corner, playing with a small twig studded with dry leaves. He waved it about like a flag.

"Much as I despise him, Robur does have the truer vision," Nemo told her. "He sees the future, while Barbicane does not. The Ottoman Empire will will fall if the Turks persist in old ways and ignore how the world will change once the Suez Ca.n.a.l is completed." fall if the Turks persist in old ways and ignore how the world will change once the Suez Ca.n.a.l is completed."

Auda leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss, then played her musical instrument again. "Husband, this matter has nothing to do with who is correct and who is wrong . . . only which of the caliphs can persuade the great Sultan."

When she had begun to sing once more, Nemo closed his eyes and listened to her voice, but she hadn't been able to lull him out of his misery. . . .

Now, months later, Robur's voice boomed out with the grim threat of a cannon strike. "You have failed me. All of you." He looked from one captive engineer to another, his gaze like a stiletto dragged across their throats. "But I shall be merciful -- and only one of you will pay the ultimate price. This time."

He made a brisk gesture with a ringed hand. Nemo could see that the whole spectacle had been rehea.r.s.ed beforehand. The muscular guards marched forward and grabbed fidgety Conseil, the meteorologist. "No, no, no!" The small man from Ma.r.s.eilles flailed and cried out, but they pinned his arms. His sunburned face turned beet red, and his eyes looked as if they might spring from their sockets. The guards dragged Conseil to the end of the docks.

"Caliph Robur, you must not do this!" Nemo stepped forward, but guards shoved him back.

The Turkish leader gave him a withering glare. "You do not command me, Engineer. You are my slave slave."

Nemo did not blink. "I am the one building your sub-marine boat -- and if you want it finished, you cannot deprive me of my men."

Robur fixed Nemo with a stony gaze. "Nevertheless, you will learn to work without this man."

Conseil's arms and legs had turned to jelly. Desperation turned Nemo's voice deeper, gave it a ragged edge. "You must not do this!"

At the caliph's quick nod, the guards shoved Conseil down onto his knees. His face was now pasty white, and his arms fluttered. He tried feebly to get away, but the strong men held him down.

"I said stop, or I swear to you that we will all sabotage our work and you will never have your sub-marine boat!" Defiant and angry, Nemo pushed against the crossed scimitars of the guards. He struck out with his fists, trying to make his way to the doomed man, but one of them hammered the hilt of his weapon against Nemo's forehead, making him crumple to the ground.

"Then you will all die, in the most horrible manner I can imagine. I suggest that you do not challenge my ingenuity in concocting tortures." Robur looked at him as a man might inspect a bug. "I do as I wish, Engineer -- just as you you must also do as I wish. All of you." must also do as I wish. All of you."

Nemo struggled to his knees, wiping a scarlet splash of blood from his eyes, and snarled in desperation, "No! If you insist on doing this, then you are a fool fool." The threat in his voice made the guards glare at him. Nemo had dealt with thugs and pirates and warlords before, and he hated them all. "Robur, you have my word that if you spare him, we --"

Caliph Robur gave a barely perceptible flick of his right hand.

The curved scimitar struck downward, and Conseil had time for only a brief squawking cry that was abruptly cut short as his head rolled onto the dockboards. The guards released his decapitated body, which slumped forward like a dropped sack.

The engineers staggered in shock, as if they, too, had felt the blow. Some stared with a thunderstorm of rage across their faces. Liedenbrock swore under his breath, then began to weep.

Nemo clenched his jaw, trying to contain his absolute loathing for the man who had forced them here. He vowed again that he would never cooperate for the caliph's aims. They had been here for seven years already and had grown too complacent. It would take cleverness and determination, but he would would find a way to use Robur's own technology against him. find a way to use Robur's own technology against him.

The warlord's men used their booted feet to shove Conseil's body off the dock and into the cove. Then, three workers ran forward with buckets of water to wash away the blood.

His green turban in place, its emerald staring like a third eye from his forehead, Robur scowled at the gathered prisoners. "Now, get back to work."

vii

As daylight seeped through the red silk curtains that hung over his windows, Nemo stood motionless, hypnotized by the fish swimming inside their tank. A gla.s.s-walled enclosure contained ten fish of various sizes and species, gliding back and forth. He had spent hours observing how their bodies and fins moved for propulsion, how their gills pumped water, how the fish existed existed beneath the surface. beneath the surface.

His mechanical, armored war vessel would have to do the same.

Auda, who knew not to interrupt him during these contemplative times, had taken their son Jules, now four years old, to play in the back room of their home. Nemo's many years of enforced work and research at Rurapente would culminate today with the launching of the new vessel. Despite the caliph's self-imposed urgency, the Suez Ca.n.a.l had not yet been completed.

But the sub-marine wars.h.i.+p was truly ready after many long years of labor, of sweat and blood. Either Nemo would succeed today . . . or fail utterly. With so many lives dependent on him, failure was not an option. Conseil had already paid for their work with his life.

A muscular guard marched through the door covering without announcing himself. "Caliph Robur wishes to depart. Now." The bald man stood, intimidating, and waited for Nemo to turn away from the fish tank. His shaved scalp wrinkled with consternation at the delay.

Still, Nemo refused to hurry, resisting in every small manner he could find. With a deep feeling of dread, he went to Auda and Jules. While the guard glowered and made impatient noises, Nemo embraced his wife and son, promising them that nothing was wrong . . . but he wondered if this might be the last time he ever saw them. What did Robur have in mind for his engineers if the sub-marine vessel did perform as expected?

Hanging his head in resignation, Nemo followed the guard. He took one last look at the gracefully swimming -- though still trapped -- fish, then at the meager possessions he and Auda had gathered during their life in Rurapente. He marched behind the white-robed guard out to the crowded docks.

The new armored vessel lay like a half-submerged predatory fish tied up against the pilings. Eyelike portholes made of thick gla.s.s stared from the control bridge within the bow. Overlapping armor plates reminded him of the scales of the shark he had fought while adrift on a raft of flotsam from the Coralie Coralie. Jagged fins like sawteeth lined the dorsal hull, the better for causing severe damage to wooden-keeled s.h.i.+ps traversing the Suez.

In secret, Nemo had named the boat the Nautilus Nautilus, after Fulton's turn-of-the-century design. In nature, the real nautilus was a cephalopod cased in a beautiful corkscrew sh.e.l.l, but the ethereal name could not disguise the fact that this was a powerfully armed s.h.i.+p of war, designed for causing death and destruction, nothing else.

Workers and slaves had gathered from the barracks, and Nemo hoped Auda would also come out to join them. The ever-present guards stood watching as the Nautilus Nautilus was prepared for her maiden voyage. Nemo had taken the craft up and down the cove several times, testing her movement and stability while submerged in the deepest water. His men had worked hard, and with care, proud of their accomplishment even as they hated Robur. They had learned their lesson from the first ruined prototype. Allowing themselves to be rushed had led to the death of poor Conseil. was prepared for her maiden voyage. Nemo had taken the craft up and down the cove several times, testing her movement and stability while submerged in the deepest water. His men had worked hard, and with care, proud of their accomplishment even as they hated Robur. They had learned their lesson from the first ruined prototype. Allowing themselves to be rushed had led to the death of poor Conseil.

Nemo meant to avenge the hapless meteorologist . . . somehow. Robur had much to atone for.