20,000 Leagues Under the Sea | Page 4

miles farther off, the Helvetia, of the
Compagnie-Nationale, and the Shannon, of the Royal Mail Steamship Company, sailing
to windward in that portion of the Atlantic lying between the United States and Europe,
respectively signalled the monster to each other in 42@ 15' N. lat. and 60@ 35' W. long.
In these simultaneous observations they thought themselves justified in estimating the
minimum length of the mammal at more than three hundred and fifty feet, as the Shannon
and Helvetia were of smaller dimensions than it, though they measured three hundred feet
over all.
Now the largest whales, those which frequent those parts of the sea round the Aleutian,
Kulammak, and Umgullich islands, have never exceeded the length of sixty yards, if they
attain that.
In every place of great resort the monster was the fashion. They sang of it in the cafes,
ridiculed it in the papers, and represented it on the stage. All kinds of stories were
circulated regarding it. There appeared in the papers caricatures of every gigantic and
imaginary creature, from the white whale, the terrible "Moby Dick" of sub-arctic regions,

to the immense kraken, whose tentacles could entangle a ship of five hundred tons and
hurry it into the abyss of the ocean. The legends of ancient times were even revived.
Then burst forth the unending argument between the believers and the unbelievers in the
societies of the wise and the scientific journals. "The question of the monster" inflamed
all minds. Editors of scientific journals, quarrelling with believers in the supernatural,
spilled seas of ink during this memorable campaign, some even drawing blood; for from
the sea-serpent they came to direct personalities.
During the first months of the year 1867 the question seemed buried, never to revive,
when new facts were brought before the public. It was then no longer a scientific problem
to be solved, but a real danger seriously to be avoided. The question took quite another
shape. The monster became a small island, a rock, a reef, but a reef of indefinite and
shifting proportions.
On the 5th of March, 1867, the Moravian, of the Montreal Ocean Company, finding
herself during the night in 27@ 30' lat. and 72@ 15' long., struck on her starboard quarter
a rock, marked in no chart for that part of the sea. Under the combined efforts of the wind
and its four hundred horse power, it was going at the rate of thirteen knots. Had it not
been for the superior strength of the hull of the Moravian, she would have been broken by
the shock and gone down with the 237 passengers she was bringing home from Canada.
The accident happened about five o'clock in the morning, as the day was breaking. The
officers of the quarter-deck hurried to the after-part of the vessel. They examined the sea
with the most careful attention. They saw nothing but a strong eddy about three cables'
length distant, as if the surface had been violently agitated. The bearings of the place
were taken exactly, and the Moravian continued its route without apparent damage. Had
it struck on a submerged rock, or on an enormous wreck? They could not tell; but, on
examination of the ship's bottom when undergoing repairs, it was found that part of her
keel was broken.
This fact, so grave in itself, might perhaps have been forgotten like many others if, three
weeks after, it had not been re-enacted under similar circumstances. But, thanks to the
nationality of the victim of the shock, thanks to the reputation of the company to which
the vessel belonged, the circumstance became extensively circulated.
The 13th of April, 1867, the sea being beautiful, the breeze favourable, the Scotia, of the
Cunard Company's line, found herself in 15@ 12' long. and 45@ 37' lat. She was going at
the speed of thirteen knots and a half.
At seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, whilst the passengers were assembled at
lunch in the great saloon, a slight shock was felt on the hull of the Scotia, on her quarter,
a little aft of the port-paddle.
The Scotia had not struck, but she had been struck, and seemingly by something rather
sharp and penetrating than blunt. The shock had been so slight that no one had been
alarmed, had it not been for the shouts of the carpenter's watch, who rushed on to the
bridge, exclaiming, "We are sinking! we are sinking!" At first the passengers were much

frightened, but Captain Anderson hastened to reassure them. The danger could not be
imminent. The Scotia, divided into seven compartments by strong partitions, could brave
with impunity any leak. Captain Anderson went down immediately into the hold. He
found that the sea was pouring into the fifth compartment; and the rapidity of the influx
proved that