Maître du monde. English

by Jules Verne

  Chapter 13

  ON BOARD THE TERROR

  When I came to my senses it was daylight. A half light pierced thethick glass port-hole of the narrow cabin wherein someone had placedme--how many hours ago, I could not say! Yet it seemed to meby the slanting rays, that the sun could not be very farabove the horizon.

  I was resting in a narrow bunk with coverings over me. My clothes,hanging in a corner, had been dried. My belt, torn in half by thehook of the iron, lay on the floor.

  I felt no wound nor injury, only a little weakness. If I had lostconsciousness, I was sure it had not been from a blow. My head musthave been drawn beneath the water, when I was tangled in the cable. Ishould have been suffocated, if someone had not dragged me from thelake.

  Now, was I on board the "Terror?" And was I alone with the Captainand his two men? This seemed probable, almost certain. The wholescene of our encounter rose before my eyes, Hart lying wounded uponthe bank; Wells firing shot after shot, Walker hurled down at theinstant when the grappling hook caught my belt! And my companions? Ontheir side, must not they think that I had perished in the waters ofLake Erie?

  Where was the "Terror" now, and how was it navigating? Was it movingas an automobile? Speeding across the roads of some neighboringState? If so, and if I had been unconscious for many hours, themachine with its tremendous powers must be already far away. Or, onthe other hand, were we, as a submarine, following some coursebeneath the lake?

  No, the "Terror" was moving upon some broad liquid surface. Thesunlight, penetrating my cabin, showed that the window was notsubmerged. On the other hand, I felt none of the jolting that theautomobile must have suffered even on the smoothest highway. Hencethe "Terror" was not traveling upon land.

  As to deciding whether she was still traversing Lake Erie, that wasanother matter. Had not the Captain reascended the Detroit River, andentered Lake Huron, or even Lake Superior beyond? It was difficult tosay.

  At any rate I decided to go up on deck. From there I might be able tojudge. Dragging myself somewhat heavily from the bunk, I reached formy clothes and dressed, though without much energy. Was I notprobably locked within this cabin?

  The only exit seemed by a ladder and hatchway above my head. Thehatch rose readily to my hand, and I ascended half way on deck.

  My first care was to look forward, backward, and on both sides of thespeeding "Terror." Everywhere a vast expanse of waves! Not a shore insight! Nothing but the horizon formed by sea and sky!

  Whether it was a lake or the ocean I could easily settle. As we shotforward at such speed the water cut by the bow, rose furiously upwardon either side, and the spray lashed savagely against me.

  I tasted it. It was fresh water, and very probably that of Lake Erie.The sun was but midway toward the zenith so it could scarcely be morethan seven or eight hours since the moment when the "Terror" haddarted from Black Rock Creek.

  This must therefore be the following morning, that of thethirty-first of July.

  Considering that Lake Erie is two hundred and twenty miles long, andover fifty wide, there was no reason to be surprised that I could seeno land, neither that of the United States to the southeast nor ofCanada to the northwest.

  At this moment there were two men on the deck, one being at the bowon the look-out, the other in the stern, keeping the course to thenortheast, as I judged by the position of the sun. The one at the bowwas he whom I had recognized as he ascended the ravine at Black Rock.The second was his companion who had carried the lantern. I looked invain for the one whom they had called Captain. He was not in sight.

  It will be readily appreciated how eager was my desire to stand inthe presence of the creator of this prodigious machines of thisfantastic personage who occupied and preoccupied the attention of allthe world, the daring inventor who did not fear to engage in battleagainst the entire human race, and who proclaimed himself "Master ofthe World."

  I approached the man on the look-out, and after a minute of silence Iasked him, "Where is the Captain?"

  He looked at me through half-closed eyes. He seemed not to understandme. Yet I knew, having heard him the night before, that he spokeEnglish. Moreover, I noticed that he did not appear surprised to seeme out of my cabin. Turning his back upon me, he continued to searchthe horizon.

  I stepped then toward the stern, determined to ask the same questionabout the Captain. But when I approached the steersman, he waved meaway with his hand, and I obtained no other response.

  It only remained for me to study this craft, from which we had beenrepelled with revolver shots, when we had seized upon its anchor rope.

  I therefore set leisurely to work to examine the construction of thismachine, which was carrying me--whither? The deck and the upper workswere all made of some metal which I did not recognize. In the centerof the deck, a scuttle half raised covered the room where the engineswere working regularly and almost silently. As I had seen before,neither masts, nor rigging! Not even a flagstaff at the stern! Towardthe bow there arose the top of a periscope by which the "Terror"could be guided when beneath the water.

  On the sides were folded back two sort of outshoots resembling thegangways on certain Dutch boats. Of these I could not understand theuse.

  In the bow there rose a third hatch-way which presumably covered thequarters occupied by the two men when the "Terror" was at rest.

  At the stern a similar hatch gave access probably to the cabin of thecaptain, who remained unseen. When these different hatches were shutdown, they had a sort of rubber covering which closed themhermetically tight, so that the water could not reach the interiorwhen the boat plunged beneath the ocean.

  As to the motor, which imparted such prodigious speed to the machine,I could see nothing of it, nor of the propeller. However, the fastspeeding boat left behind it only a long, smooth wake. The extremefineness of the lines of the craft, caused it to make scarcely anywaves, and enabled it to ride lightly over the crest of the billowseven in a rough sea.

  As was already known, the power by which the machine was driven, wasneither steam nor gasoline, nor any of those similar liquids so wellknown by their odor, which are usually employed for automobiles andsubmarines. No doubt the power here used was electricity, generatedon board, at some high power. Naturally I asked myself whence comesthis electricity, from piles, or from accumulators? But how werethese piles or accumulators charged? Unless, indeed, the electricitywas drawn directly from the surrounding air or from the water, byprocesses hitherto unknown. And I asked myself with intense eagernessif in the present situation, I might be able to discover thesesecrets.

  Then I thought of my companions, left behind on the shore of BlackRock Creek. One of them, I knew, was wounded; perhaps the others werealso. Having seen me dragged overboard by the hawser, could theypossibly suppose that I had been rescued by the "Terror?" Surely not!Doubtless the news of my death had already been telegraphed to Mr.Ward from Toledo. And now who would dare to undertake a new campaignagainst this "Master of the World"?

  These thoughts occupied my mind as I awaited the captain's appearanceon the deck. He did not appear.

  I soon began to feel very hungry; for I must have fasted now nearlytwenty-four hours. I had eaten nothing since our hasty meal in thewoods, even if that had been the night before. And judging by thepangs which now assailed my stomach, I began to wonder if I had notbeen snatched on board the "Terror" two days before,--or even more.

  Happily the question if they meant to feed me, and how they meant tofeed me, was solved at once. The man at the bow left his post,descended, and reappeared. Then, without saying a word, he placedsome food before me and returned to his place. Some potted meat,dried fish, sea-biscuit, and a pot of ale so strong that I had to mixit with water, such was the meal to which I did full justice. Myfellow travelers had doubtless eaten before I came out of the cabin,and they did not join me.

  There was nothing further to attract my eyes, and I sank again intothought. How would this adventure finish? Would I see this invisiblecaptain a
t length, and would he restore me to liberty? Could I regainit in spite of him? That would depend on circumstances! But if the"Terror" kept thus far away from the shore, or if she traveledbeneath the water, how could I escape from her? Unless we landed, andthe machine became an automobile, must I not abandon all hope ofescape?

  Moreover--why should I not admit it?--to escape without havinglearned anything of the "Terror's" secrets would not have contentedme at all. Although I could not thus far flatter myself upon thesuccess of my campaign, and though I had come within a hairbreadth oflosing my life and though the future promised far more of evil thanof good, yet after all, a step forward had been attained. To be sure,if I was never to be able to re-enter into communication with theworld, if, like this Master of the World who had voluntarily placedhimself outside the law, I was now placed outside humanity, then thefact that I had reached the "Terror" would have little value.

  The craft continued headed to the northeast, following the longeraxis of Lake Erie. She was advancing at only half speed; for, had shebeen doing her best, she must some hours before have reached thenortheastern extremity of the lake.

  At this end Lake Erie has no other outlet than the Niagara River, bywhich it empties into Lake Ontario. Now, this river is barred by thefamous cataract some fifteen miles beyond the important city ofBuffalo. Since the "Terror" had not retreated by the Detroit River,down which she had descended from the upper lakes, how was she toescape from these waters, unless indeed she crossed by land?

  The sun passed the meridian. The day was beautiful; warm but notunpleasantly so, thanks to the breeze made by our passage. The shoresof the lake continued invisible on both the Canadian and the Americanside.

  Was the captain determined not to show himself? Had he some reasonfor remaining unknown? Such a precaution would indicate that heintended to set me at liberty in the evening, when the "Terror" couldapproach the shore unseen.

  Toward two o'clock, however, I heard a slight noise; the centralhatchway was raised. The man I had so impatiently awaited appeared ondeck.

  I must admit he paid no more attention to me, than his men had done.Going to the stern, he took the helm. The man whom he had relieved,after a few words in a low tone, left the deck, descending by theforward hatchway. The captain, having scanned the horizon, consultedthe compass, and slightly altered our course. The speed of the"Terror" increased.

  This man, so interesting both to me and to the world, must have beensome years over fifty. He was of middle height, with powerfulshoulders still very erect; a strong head, with thick hair rathergray than white, smooth shaven cheeks, and a short, crisp beard. Hischest was broad, his jaw prominent, and he had that characteristicsign of tremendous energy, bushy eyebrows drawn sharply together.Assuredly he possessed a constitution of iron, splendid health, andwarm red blood beneath his sun burned skin.

  Like his companions the captain was dressed in sea-clothes covered byan oil-skin coat, and with a woolen cap which could be pulled down tocover his head entirely, when he so desired.

  Need I add that the captain of the "Terror" was the other of the twomen, who had watched my house in Long street. Moreover, if Irecognized him, he also must recognize me as chief-inspector Strock,to whom had been assigned the task of penetrating the Great Eyrie.

  I looked at him curiously. On his part, while he did not seek toavoid my eyes, he showed at least a singular indifference to the factthat he had a stranger on board.

  As I watched him, the idea came to me, a suggestion which I had notconnected with the first view of him in Washington, that I hadalready seen this characteristic figure. Was it in one of thephotographs held in the police department, or was it merely a picturein some shop window? But the remembrance was very vague. Perhaps Imerely imagined it.

  Well, though his companions had not had the politeness to answer me,perhaps he would be more courteous. He spoke the same language as I,although I could not feel quite positive that he was of Americanbirth. He might indeed have decided to pretend not to understand me,so as to avoid all discussion while he held me prisoner.

  In that case, what did he mean to do with me? Did he intend todispose of me without further ceremony? Was he only waiting for nightto throw me overboard? Did even the little which I knew of him, makeme a danger of which he must rid himself? But in that case, he mightbetter have left me at the end of his anchor line. That would havesaved him the necessity of drowning me over again.

  I turned, I walked to the stern, I stopped full in front of him.Then, at length, he fixed full upon me a glance that burned like aflame.

  "Are you the captain?" I asked.

  He was silent.

  "This boat! Is it really the 'Terror?'"

  To this question also there was no response. Then I reached towardhim; I would have taken hold of his arm.

  He repelled me without violence, but with a movement that suggestedtremendous restrained power.

  Planting myself again before him, I demanded in a louder tone, "Whatdo you mean to do with me?"

  Words seemed almost ready to burst from his lips, which he compressedwith visible irritation. As though to check his speech he turned hishead aside. His hand touched a regulator of some sort, and themachine rapidly increased its speed.

  Anger almost mastered me. I wanted to cry out "So be it! Keep yoursilence! I know who you are, just as I know your machine, recognizedat Madison, at Boston, at Lake Kirdall. Yes; it is you, who haverushed so recklessly over our roads, our seas and our lakes! Yourboat is the 'Terror' and you her commander, wrote that letter to thegovernment. It is you who fancy you can fight the entire world. You,who call yourself the Master of the World!"

  And how could he have denied it! I saw at that moment the famousinitials inscribed upon the helm!

  Fortunately I restrained myself; and despairing of getting anyresponse to my questions, I returned to my seat near the hatchway ofmy cabin.

  For long hours, I patiently watched the horizon in the hope that landwould soon appear. Yes, I sat waiting! For I was reduced to that!Waiting! No doubt, before the day closed, the "Terror" must reach theend of Lake Erie, since she continued her course steadily to thenortheast.