The Mammoth Book of New Jules Verne Adventures (67 page)

“I am sure he is
preparing for our expedition.”

Captain Alexandre drew
an ornately engraved watch from a uniform pocket. Holding it close to the
candle she announced, “We must be aboard
Rosny
in two hours, so as to depart
in three.”

“So soon?” Speranza
Verde exclaimed.

“It is the tides,”
Captain Alexandre explained. “The Marée de Fureur is a most unusual tidal body.
It will offer sufficient draft for the
Rosny
today, and she can make
faster headway using the electro-atomic power of her Curie engines than
creeping along on the Wells track drive. Surely, Mademoiselle Verde, you are
familiar with the behaviour of the marée.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Have you studied the
tide tables for this month, Mademoiselle Docteur?”

“I have. Of course we
have only a limited record of tides. The creation of the Sahara sea in 1930 had
unexpected results, creating tides in the Mediterranean where none had
previously existed, and providing for my profession wondrous new food for
thought. The northerly flow will begin at four o’clock in the morning.”

“Indeed.” Captain
Alexandre raised her glass, tested the nose of the cognac, sampled its flavour
only with the tip of her tongue, then lowered her glass smiling.
“Bon.”
Her
gaze flicked from face to face of her companions. “I trust you have all stowed
your scientific equipment and your personal gear — Mademoiselle, Messieurs?”

Speranza Verde said, “I
prefer the title of Dottore alone.”

“Very well. As you wish,
Dottore Verde. My point, however, is that we must sail with the tide or we lose
the opportunity. The French Republic has a great fleet but no nation’s
resources are without limit. We do not wish to waste this time.”

“And Sir Sidwell-Blue?”
the German asked.

“He will board
Rosny
on schedule or he will find
only a sealed bulkhead or a vacant quay. We sail with the tide.”

The party dispersed,
some to gather such brief moments of slumber as they could, others to remain
awake pending the time to board the submersible.

Rosny
was an example of the newest and smallest
Nautilus IV
class
of submersibles. Barely sixty metres in length, the submersible carried a small
crew. Propelled by her Curie engines, she could outspeed and outmanoeuvre any
other known submersible craft on the planet. She was also capable of crawling
over dry or muddy terrain on extended tracks based on the designs of the
Englishman Wells.

Her interior fittings,
in the tradition of her kind stretching back to the original
Nautilus,
were
of mahogany and polished brass. Her floors were carpeted. Her galley was filled
with fresh viands and fine vintages produced by the enological artists of
Metropolitan France and her North African provinces.

Only in the department
of weaponry might
Rosny
be deemed deficient. Outfitted as the
submersible was for purposes of reconnaissance and exploration, she carried
neither cannon nor torpedo nor submarine bomb. Her crew had been trained in
riflery and such arms were stowed in the submersible’s armoury; her officers,
also, were furnished with sidearms.

Colonel Dwight David
White stood at the foot of
Rosny’s
gangplank. He held a single item of
luggage, containing changes of clothing, necessary toiletries, and certain
equipment with which he had been furnished by the technicians and planners of
his nation’s embassy and military legation in Serkout.

The Colonel was of
course thoroughly familiar with the courtesies and ceremonies of both the
military and diplomatic communities of the world. When he boarded the
submersible he saluted the colours of the French Republic, offered his sidearm,
a Harrington and Richardson .32 automatic, to Captain Alexandre and received
permission to retain possession of the weapon.

The quay, of course, had
been illuminated with spotlights to facilitate boarding
Rosny
in the
hours of the night. A crescent moon had been visible from Colonel White’s hotel
room; from the quay its pale radiance was utterly obliterated by the brilliance
of artificial illumination.

Once on board, Colonel
White declined the assistance of a crew member in carrying his single item of
luggage to his tiny but richly furnished cabin. Here he distributed his
personal items, retaining only his firearm and technical gear in a smaller case
which he removed from his principal luggage and locked to his wrist with a
specially designed handcuff.

Thus prepared he brushed
his hair, straightened his uniform, and made to join his fellow inquirers.

As had been prearranged,
the investigative team assembled in the Captain’s cabin as they arrived and
settled into their respective quarters. The cabin was furnished with a polished
conference table and plush chairs. An ornate instrument panel comprising a
great clock-face, compass, barometer, and navigational tools filled most of one
wall. An electrical lighting system furnished illumination and the soft
susurrus of fresh air, processed and piped throughout
Rosny
by the most
up-to-date means, gave evidence that the submersible was a self-sufficient and
self-contained world of its own.

The cabin was located
above the main body of the submersible and was fitted with large glass panels
on both starboard and larboard sides. Upon arriving in the cabin, Colonel White
observed the activity of sailors and dockmen on the quay. Not a word was spoken
before
Rosny
began to move, so smoothly and gradually as to create the
illusion that the submersible remained stationary while the quay with its
brilliant lights and scurrying workers was retreating.

But within fleeting
moments, to
Rosny’s
forward motion was added a horizontal movement. The
black sky with its crescent moon and glittering Saharan stars appeared overhead
only briefly, then
Rosny
opened her buoyancy tanks to the Saharan brine.

Soon the world outside
Rosny’s
heavy glass panels became one of utter blackness. Eventually brightly
luminescent denizens of the Saharan deep would reveal themselves, Colonel White
and his companions knew, but for the moment they might as well have been in the
depths of interplanetary space, for all the commerce they held with the sea
that surrounded them.

They sat around the
polished wooden table, Jemond Jules Rouge at its head, Colonel White, Speranza
Verde, Siegfried Schwartz and Sidwell-Blue. The submersible’s Captain,
Melisande Alexandre, had taken her place inconspicuously away from the table,
clearly indicating a desire to observe but not to dominate the proceedings to
follow.

Yes, Sir Shepley
Sidwell-Blue had arrived at the quay in time, barely in time, to make the
sailing of
Rosny.
He was dishevelled. He was followed to the boarding
ramp by a driver and footman carrying valises from which loose shirt-ends and
stocking garters hung, his shirt was rumpled and his blond hair fell across his
forehead, but he did not miss the sailing.

After mess men had
served coffee and biscuits M. Rouge made welcoming remarks to the assembled
group. “We are proceeding beneath the surface, my friends. The tide is with us,
flowing in a northerly direction. We should reach our destination within a
half-day’s cruise. Until then, I hope that we may discuss our plan of
investigation.”

Gazing around the table,
he continued. “Each of you has been selected as the outstanding representative
of your chosen profession. Dottore Verde was of course our first chosen expert.
Her study of the tidal flow through the Mar& de Fureur has been vital, for
the hydrological patterns and alterations of the sea bed encountered in this
new body of water is a challenge unique.”

He bowed to Speranza
Verde.

“Herr Schwartz and Sir
Shepley are representatives of converging disciplines. Our preliminary findings
indicate that the relics we are about to examine are of an Egyptian or
pre-Egyptian origin. Their significance and value to the modern world, beyond
that of the purely scholarly, are, one surmises, incalculable.”

The German nodded
acknowledgement of Rouge’s words. Schwartz had lighted a black cigar and
gestured with it. The Englishman, clad in soft tweeds that complemented his
light hair and moustache, fumbled in his pockets for a pipe and tobacco.
Finding them, he packed the pipe and held a match to its bowl. The smoke that
rose was drawn away by the submersible’s ventilation system. Sidwell-Blue
muttered his acknowledgment.

“And Colonel White,” the
Frenchman concluded, “is our military man. A grand concession by France to
nominate a representative of the Confederacy to this position, but of course
the friendship of our two great Republics is of historic nature, known to all
around the world.”

Before David White could
reply, the room was startled by the clatter of Sir Shepley Sidwell-Blue’s pipe
on the polished mahogany table. “I say,” the Englishman exclaimed, “I fear we’re
under attack. Just look at that!”

He pointed to the oblong
window on the starboard side of the cabin.

A vast creature was
charging at
Rosny.
Its eyes were huge, its open mouth contained rows of
gigantic, murderous teeth.

Its fins were clawed
like those of certain tropical frogs that David White had encountered in his
service in the jungles of Belize, and it used them in a manner suggestive of an
amphibian crawling toward its hopeless prey.

Strangest of all, the
creature appeared to be carrying a lighted lantern in its single hand. Upon
more considered observation the seeming lantern proved to be a naturally
luminescent organ mounted on a flexible stalk that rose from the creature’s
forehead.

David White’s hand moved
instinctively to his sidearm. But he realized almost at once that the
Harrington and Richardson would do little to help the voyagers if their aquatic
attacker succeeded in bursting through
Rosny’s
glass plate. To his astonishment, the creature swam to within
seeming inches of the glass, then hovered, its clawlike fins moving slowly to
and fro. At the submersible’s rate of speed the creature was obviously a mighty
swimmer to maintain pace at all, no less with such seeming ease.

Even as the voyagers,
recovering from their initial startlement, left their seats to cluster at the
glass, the creature held pace, returning their curious stares with an
expression of its own that seemed to duplicate their surprise.

The laughter of Monsieur
Rouge drew their attention back from the sea. “A common sight nowadays, my
friends. Since the creation of the Sahara Sea, creatures have invaded this new
body of water, making their way from the Mediterranean and even in some cases
from the cold waters of the Atlantic. The Sahara Sea offers the appeal of a
warm and mostly gentle body, and in less than a century that the Sahara Sea has
existed, numerous species have come to visit and stayed to raise their progeny.”

“By Jove,” the
Englishman inquired, “are there no native species in this lovely little pond?”

At this moment the
ferocious-appearing lantern bearer, its curiosity as to
Rosny
and her occupants satisfied,
flashed away from the submersible and disappeared into the darkness.

“Perhaps, if you will
return to your places,
Mademoiselle et Messieurs,
Dottore Verde will
enlighten us as to the plan of action once we reach our destination.”

Speranza Verde rose to
her feet.

“With permission of
Captain Alexandre, I have plotted our course to bring us to our destination as
the tidal flow ceases. Of course it will in due time reverse its direction and
flow back from the Bay of Sidra toward the City of Serkout from which we
departed. Such tidal reversals are of course entirely normal.”

She paused in her
presentation to draw from a cylindrical case which had previously been placed
in the cabin a nautical chart of the Sahara Sea, centring up the Iles de
Crainte and Doute. This she spread on the table so that all the travellers
might see it.

“The lunar and solar
attractions that control earthly tides are at this time in unique conjunction.
The result will be a period of several hours during which the channel between
the two
isole
becomes a dry bed. This phenomenon is not unknown, of
course.”

She paused to smile, and
David White was struck by the brightness and gentleness of her expression.

“Students of the Bible,”
Speranza Verde went on, “will recall the parting of the Red Sea upon the
command of Moses. It is my belief that this event was in fact a tidal anomaly
similar to that which is about to occur. When we reach our destination, Captain
Alexandre informs me,
Rosny
will rest upon her Wells tracks and use them
for any needed short-distance travel. You may rest assured that we will be safe
from the waters during this period, but we must all complete our work before
the Marée rushes back upon us, however. Our period of safety, according to my
calculations, will be approximately four hours, thirty-two minutes, and sixteen
seconds.”