20,000 Leagues Under the Sea | Page 7

point of view.
The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, the Lloyd's List, the Packet-Boat, and the Maritime
and Colonial Review, all papers devoted to insurance companies which threatened to
raise their rates of premium, were unanimous on this point. Public opinion had been
pronounced. The United States were the first in the field; and in New York they made
preparations for an expedition destined to pursue this narwhal. A frigate of great speed,
the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission as soon as possible. The arsenals were
opened to Commander Farragut, who hastened the arming of his frigate; but, as it always
happens, the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster did not appear.
For two months no one heard it spoken of. No ship met with it. It seemed as if this
unicorn knew of the plots weaving around it. It had been so much talked of, even through
the Atlantic cable, that jesters pretended that this slender fly had stopped a telegram on its
passage and was making the most of it.
So when the frigate had been armed for a long campaign, and provided with formidable
fishing apparatus, no one could tell what course to pursue. Impatience grew apace, when,
on the 2nd of July, they learned that a steamer of the line of San Francisco, from
California to Shanghai, had seen the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific
Ocean. The excitement caused by this news was extreme. The ship was revictualled and
well stocked with coal.
Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn pier, I received a letter worded as
follows:
To M. ARONNAX, Professor in the Museum of Paris, Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York.
SIR,--If you will consent to join the Abraham Lincoln in this expedition, the Government
of the United States will with pleasure see France represented in the enterprise.
Commander Farragut has a cabin at your disposal.
Very cordially yours, J.B. HOBSON, Secretary of Marine.

CHAPTER III
I FORM MY RESOLUTION
Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson's letter I no more thought of pursuing
the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the North Sea. Three seconds after reading
the letter of the honourable Secretary of Marine, I felt that my true vocation, the sole end
of my life, was to chase this disturbing monster and purge it from the world.
But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary and longing for repose. I aspired
to nothing more than again seeing my country, my friends, my little lodging by the Jardin
des Plantes, my dear and precious collections--but nothing could keep me back! I forgot
all--fatigue, friends and collections--and accepted without hesitation the offer of the
American Government.
"Besides," thought I, "all roads lead back to Europe; and the unicorn may be amiable
enough to hurry me towards the coast of France. This worthy animal may allow itself to
be caught in the seas of Europe (for my particular benefit), and I will not bring back less
than half a yard of his ivory halberd to the Museum of Natural History." But in the
meanwhile I must seek this narwhal in the North Pacific Ocean, which, to return to
France, was taking the road to the antipodes.
"Conseil," I called in an impatient voice.
Conseil was my servant, a true, devoted Flemish boy, who had accompanied me in all my
travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking well. He was quiet by nature, regular from
principle, zealous from habit, evincing little disturbance at the different surprises of life,
very quick with his hands, and apt at any service required of him; and, despite his name,
never giving advice--even when asked for it.
Conseil had followed me for the last ten years wherever science led. Never once did he
complain of the length or fatigue of a journey, never make an objection to pack his
portmanteau for whatever country it might be, or however far away, whether China or
Congo. Besides all this, he had good health, which defied all sickness, and solid muscles,
but no nerves; good morals are understood. This boy was thirty years old, and his age to
that of his master as fifteen to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty years
old?
But Conseil had one fault: he was ceremonious to a degree, and would never speak to me
but in the third person, which was sometimes provoking.

"Conseil," said I again, beginning with feverish hands to make preparations for my
departure.
Certainly I was sure of this devoted boy. As a rule, I never asked him if it were
convenient for him or not to follow me in my travels; but this time the expedition in
question might be prolonged, and the enterprise might