contain molluscs of enormous size, crustaceans frightful to contemplate, such as lobsters more than a hundred yards long, or crabs weighing two hundred tons. Why should it not be so? Formerly, terrestrial animals, contemporaries of the geological epochs, quadrupeds, quadrumans, reptiles, and birds, were constructed in gigantic moulds. The Creator had thrown them into a colossal mould which time has gradually lessened. Why should not the sea in its unknown depths have kept there vast specimens of the life of another age – the sea which never changes, whilst the earth changes incessantly? Why should it not hide in its bosom the last varieties of these titanic species, whose years are centuries, and whose centuries are millenniums?
But I am letting myself be carried away by reveries which are no longer such to me. A truce to chimeras which time has changed for me into terrible realities. I repeat, opinion was then made up as to the nature of the phenomenon, and the public admitted without contestation the existence of the prodigious animal which had nothing in common with the fabulous sea serpents.
But if some people saw in this nothing but a purely scientific problem to solve, others more positive, especially in America and England, were of opinion to purge the ocean of this formidable monster, in order to reassure transmarine communications.
Public opinion having declared its verdict, the United States were first in the field, and preparations for an expedition to pursue the narwhal were at once begun in New York. A very fast frigate, the Abraham Lincoln, was put in commission, and the arsenals were opened to Captain Farragut, who actively hastened the arming of his frigate.
But, as generally happens, from the moment it was decided to pursue the monster, the monster was not heard of for two months. It seemed as if this unicorn knew about the plots that were being weaved for it. It had been so much talked of, even through the Atlantic Cable! Would-be wits pretended that the cunning fellow had stopped some telegram in its passage, and was now using the knowledge for his own benefit.
So when the frigate had been prepared for a long campaign, and furnished with formidable fishing apparatus, they did not know where to send her to. Impatience was increasing with the delay, when on July 2 it was reported that a steamer of the San Francisco Line, from California to Shanghai, had met with the animal three weeks before in the North Pacific Ocean.
The emotion caused by the news was extreme, and twenty-four hours only were granted to Captain Farragut before he sailed. The ship was already victualled and well stocked with coal. The crew were there to a man, and there was nothing to do but to light the fires.
Three hours before the Abraham Lincoln left Brooklyn Pier I received the following letter: –
‘Sir, – If you would like to join the expedition of the Abraham Lincoln, the United States Government will have great pleasure in seeing France represented by you in the enterprise. Captain Farragut has a cabin at your disposition.
‘Faithfully yours,
‘J. B. Hobson, Secretary of Marine.’
Three seconds before the arrival of J. B. Hobson’s letter I had no more idea of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the North-West Passage. Three seconds after having read the secretary’s letter I had made up my mind that ridding the world of this monster was my veritable vocation and the single aim of my life.
But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, and was longing for rest in my own little place in the Jardin des Plantes amongst my dear and precious collections. But I forgot all fatigue, repose, and collections, and accepted without further reflection the offer of the American Government.
‘Besides,’ I said to myself, ‘all roads lead back to Europe, and the unicorn may be amiable enough to draw me towards the French coast. This worthy animal may allow itself to be caught in European seas for my especial benefit, and I will not take back less than half a yard of its halberd to the National History Museum.’
But in the meantime the narwhal was taking me to the North Pacific Ocean, which was going to the antipodes on the road to France.
‘Conseil!’ I called in an impatient tone. ‘Conseil!’
Conseil was my servant, a faithful fellow who accompanied me on all my journeys, a brave Dutchman I had great confidence in; he was phlegmatic by nature, regular from principle, zealous from habit, showing little astonishment at the varied surprises of life, very skilful with his hands, apt at any service, and, in spite of his name, never giving any counsel, even when asked for it.
By dint of contact with the world of savants in our Jardin des Plantes, Conseil had succeeded in knowing something. He was a specialist, well up in the classification of Natural History, but his science stopped there. As far as practice was concerned, I do not think he could have distinguished a cachalot from a whale. And yet what a brave fellow he was!
Conseil had followed me during the last ten years wherever science had directed my steps. He never complained of the length or fatigue of a journey, or of having to pack his trunk for any country, however remote, whether China or Congo. He went there or elsewhere without questioning the wherefore. His health defied all illness, and he had solid muscles, but no nerves – not the least appearance of nerves – of course, I mean in his mental faculties. He was thirty years old, and his age to that of his master was as fifteen is to twenty. May I be excused for saying that I was forty?
But Conseil had one fault. He was intensely formal, and would never speak to me except in the third person, which was sometimes irritating.
‘Conseil!’ I repeated, beginning my preparations for departure with a feverish hand.
Certainly, I was certain of this faithful fellow. Usually I did not ask him if it was or was not convenient for him to accompany me on my travels; but this time an expedition was in question which might be a very long and hazardous one, in pursuit of an animal capable of sinking a frigate like a nutshell. There was matter for reflection, even to the most impassive man in the world. What would Conseil say?
‘Conseil!’ I called for the third time.
Conseil appeared.
‘Did monsieur call me?’ said he on entering.
‘Yes, my boy. Get yourself and me ready to start in two hours.’
‘As it pleases monsieur,’ answered Conseil calmly.
‘There is not a minute to lose. Pack up all my travelling utensils, as many coats, shirts, and socks as you can get in. Make haste!’
‘And monsieur’s collections?’ asked Conseil.
‘We will see to them presently.’
‘What, the archiotherium, the hyracotherium, the oreodons, the cheropotamus, and monsieur’s other skins?’
‘They will stay at the hotel.’
‘And the live babiroussa of monsieur’s?’
‘They will feed it during our absence. Besides, I will give orders to have our menagerie forwarded to France.’
‘We are not going back to Paris, then?’ asked Conseil.
‘Yes – certainly we are,’ answered I evasively; ‘but by making a curve.’
‘The curve that monsieur pleases.’
‘Oh, it is not much; not so direct a route, that’s all. We are going in the Abraham Lincoln.’
‘As it may suit monsieur.’
‘You know about the monster, Conseil – the famous narwhal. We are going to rid the seas of it. A glorious mission, but – dangerous too. We don’t know where we are going to. Those animals may be very capricious! But we will go, whether or no! We have a captain who will keep his eyes open.’
‘As monsieur does, I will do,’ answered Conseil.