Hetzel’s eyes brightened and then darted away. Verne could see that the older man was now approaching the subject he really wanted to discuss. “What if you were to consider, for instance, adding more . . . romance in your novels?” Verne sat up across from the publisher’s desk. He put his elbows on the now-ignored galleys. “Romance? What could a frivolous romance possibly have to do with my stories of bravery and exploration?”
Hetzel folded his fingers together and looked intently at his visitor. “In each novel, you have brave explorers and intelligent engineers—yet you rarely include a true love element.”
Verne fumed. “But in Journey to the Centre of the Earth, my character is engaged to be married. He thinks of his fiancée often. Graubwen . . . yes, I believe her name was Graubwen.”
Hetzel dismissed the defense. “She is mentioned a few times in the entire novel, and appears in the flesh but once. No, Jules, I am talking about a genuine relationship, true emotions and heartfelt desires. Let the reader see two people who love each other, not just give lip-service to mutual adoration.”
He and his publisher had experienced occasional disagreements about the content of his prodigious output, and in his heart Verne knew that Hetzel was usually right, even when he dared not admit it. “Jules, your novels are full of fascination, but empty of passion.”
Verne gave a wry, wistful sigh. “Ah, but what do I know of romance?”
Now, though, the suggestion brought to mind Verne’s own marriage with Honorine, and the loss of Caroline Aronnax. From childhood, he’d been convinced that Caroline was destined to be the real love of his life—and he had not let go of that fantasy. Of course, he’d never gotten around to purchasing the coral necklace either, the one he had promised her in the marketplace on Ile Feydeau. By now he could have procured her a thousand of them. . . .
“My tales are not about such things,” Verne insisted. “They are about science and knowledge and exploration, extending our boundaries and traveling to new horizons.” He felt his face warm with a flush. “A love story would only get in the way of the adventures.”
Hetzel sat back at his desk and took out a cigar, knowing his author well enough to see that it was fruitless to press the matter further. At least for now. “So, how goes the Robinson?” he asked, changing the subject. The “Robinson” was Verne’s long-planned desert-island book, his homage to Robinson Crusoe and Swiss Family Robinson, combined with André Nemo’s real-life adventures as a castaway. “I have decided to rewrite it from the start.”
The publisher puffed on his cigar and smiled. “Glad to hear it.” When Hetzel had seen the first draft, he’d complained that it was a mere adventure story about survivors marooned on a desert island, with nothing original or thought-provoking. By now Verne’s readers had come to expect cutting-edge science, intriguing speculation, and marvelous technological wonders . . . and the first version of the “Robinson” novel had contained none of that.
“I’ve had a wonderful idea about how to fix it.” Verne stood up, full from the lunch and the wine. Nemo would help him once again. “Rest assured that when I deliver the manuscript, you’ll be quite pleased. It will be my best novel since 20,000 Leagues.”
Hetzel beamed. “Well, there’s a challenge for you.”
Verne said a quick farewell and left. He had writing to do.
For years since the publication of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Verne’s readers had continued to shower him with letters and praise, ecstatic in their adoration for the character of Captain Nemo. Even as a fictional person, Nemo still left Verne feeling envious and dissatisfied with his own accomplishments.
Upon finishing the sub-marine book, he had considered the story complete. He had described the Nautilus sinking in the terrible maelstrom off Norway, forever vanished along with its brooding captain and mysterious crew beneath the dark, cold waters.
But his readers begged to hear more of the dark genius. Nemo, Nemo! They wanted the captain’s background explained, they wanted the mystery solved. Very well, he would give them everything they asked.
Finally, while searching for a way to salvage his ambitious desert-island novel, he realized that Nemo might yet have another role to play. He would save the story, save the characters . . . and maybe even save his own creativity.
He wrote The Mysterious Island in three substantial volumes. Instead of using average castaways, Verne populated his massive novel with characters taken from Rurapente. An intelligent engineer, Cyrus Harding, led the group, using his ingenuity to build a magnificent house inside a granite cliff.
The castaways learned how to smelt iron, domesticate wild animals, even set up a telegraph . . . all the while assisted by a secretive benefactor who came to their aid at appropriate moments, yet never revealed his identity.
At the end of the long novel, after readers had waited month after month during the serialization, they learned the truth: The guardian angel on the mysterious island was none other than an aging Captain Nemo, who had survived the sinking of the Nautilus and brought his damaged sub-marine boat to a cave beneath the volcano. . . .
By now, Verne had realized his error in the first novel. He could not simply let the Nautilus disappear into the treacherous depths, where it was presumed destroyed. To finish the great story at last, to let them both rest in peace, Verne depicted the end of Captain Nemo, a man haunted by the tragic deaths of his wife and young son.
In the final chapters, with the castaways gathered around him on the entombed Nautilus, the captain died aboard his beloved sub-marine boat. To honor Nemo’s final request, the character of Cyrus Harding operated the controls for a final time before disembarking. The castaways watched as the Nautilus sank slowly under the sea, bearing the body of the great Nemo, who was never to be seen again. . . .
When Jules Verne completed the enormous manuscript, including the proud funeral, he at last felt free of André Nemo. He knew he would never see the man again, nor Caroline. As told by Verne, the story was not true . . . but the readers would be satisfied.
“Forgive me, my friends,” he murmured. Though altered and falsified, the account would certainly make a grand story.
He set aside his pen and looked at the thick journal filled with his words. No matter what happened in real life, Verne’s readers would remember Captain Nemo, and his fate, the way the author had told it.
The true ending of Nemo’s story was quite different from fiction, though. The Nautilus continued its voyage of discovery through the seas. Forsaking his war against War, Nemo preyed upon no ships, but instead remained content with Caroline’s company. He chose the sub-marine’s course carefully, setting out for his favorite spot on the ocean bottom.
He wanted to show Caroline the pinnacle of mystery and wonder he’d found beneath the waves. Standing with her on the bridge deck, Nemo felt like a romantic character in a storybook as they stared out at the turquoise-lit wonderland.
He looked over at the stiff-backed Englishman at the helm. “Mr. Harding? A progress report?”
Harding consulted his charts. “We should arrive within the hour, Captain.”
Nemo took Caroline’s arm in his. “Come with me to the salon. There is something you must see.”
He led her again to the central salon, where he had cranked shut the iris plates over the wide, circular window, keeping the view hidden. Nemo poured each of them a glass of wine, then gestured for Caroline to sit in the chair beside him. While they waited, he looked into her face, studying the bright blue eyes that were so different from Auda’s deep, dark gaze.
But Auda was gone, as was Caroline’s husband—and the two of them no longer had any barriers to their lifelong love.
Caroline’s eyes were electric with anticipation. Nemo sipped his wine, smiling as he allowed the suspense to build. He stroked her hair. Before long, he heard the thrumming engines slow. Harding’s hollow-sounding voice came over the speaking tube. “We have arrived, Captain. All propellers at full stop.”
“Th
ank you, Mr. Harding.”
He held out his hand to Caroline. She took it and stood, gliding gracefully with him over to the closed windows. Using a louver-crank, Nemo slid back the metal plates, then turned a dial that extinguished the lamps inside the salon.
Outside, the ethereal light from the portholes hung like a diffuse halo around the Nautilus. He encouraged Caroline to take a step closer to the viewing window, to allow her eyes to adjust. When she gasped out loud, he knew she had seen.
“Behold . . . Atlantis.”
Drowned beneath pristine waters that were turned a jewel blue by filtered sunlight lay the ruins of an ancient, long-forgotten city. Fluted Corinthian pillars towered beside a fallen arch adorned with dervishscarves of seaweed. The collapsed buildings showed magnificent, unrivaled architecture, now appreciated only by colorful fish that flitted in and out of the awesome drowned temples.
“It is beautiful, André,” Caroline said, letting out a long breath. Her face glowed with childlike delight. Nemo thought he had never seen her look more lovely.
An alabaster statue of Adonis-like perfection lay facedown in the mud. Enameled urns that had tumbled to the soft ocean bed were now encrusted with coral. Green and pink sea anemones sprouted in basins and beside broken benches like an odd flower bed. Metallic-pink abalone shells had wedged themselves into the cracks of a crooked flagstone path.
Nemo whispered his next words close to her ear. “I love you, Caroline. I’ve loved you all of my life. There is so much more I want to share with you. The oceans of the world can be ours together. Will you marry me?”
Immense marble halls sagged under the weight of water and time. Gems, wrought-gold jewelry, and broken pottery lay strewn across the ocean floor. All traces of the original inhabitants of this place had vanished.
Caroline closed her eyes, letting the words into her heart like water into parched ground. “Of course I will, André.” She opened her eyes and squeezed his hand. They didn’t speak for a long time, just sharing the wonder of the world that lay before them.
“Come walk with me,” Nemo invited, his voice barely above a whisper. Caroline nodded. “Always.” Then slowly—almost shyly—they swayed toward ward each other, and their lips met in a kiss that held both reverence for the past and promise for the future. . . .
Leaving Cyrus Harding in charge, the two suited up in undersea garments.
Surrounded by warm water, they steadied their footing on the sandy bottom. Nemo reached out to clasp Caroline’s gloved hand. The pair moved like fairy dancers in slow, graceful motion.
As they explored, the final barriers between them seemed to melt away. The ancient paths and their own tortured histories of loneliness, tragic mistakes, and paths not taken now merged with the present into one magical moment frozen in time.
Everything they had endured or experienced in their lives had brought them to this point. They were together now with the future ahead of them. Life was filled with opportunities, a story of love and adventure yet to be written.
Regrets over what might have been were washed away by the warmth of the current.
Time had cast its veil of poignant splendor over this ancient place, a reminder that the past was not a thing to fear, but an essential part of the present and all that was yet to come. Walking together, they ventured through the sunken city, treading where no one had gone for century upon century.
It was only the first of many wonders they would experience together.
Captain Nemo Page 44