Mon, February 06 2012
| TITLE: | Leviathan Hunting |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Sherry Thornburg |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | Adventure |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | G, Gen, Tame |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | The cast of SAJV. |
| DESCRIPTION: | A little adventure over the North Atlantic gets fishy. |
| STATUS: | Complete |
| DISCLAIMER: | The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne is not mine, never will be and was only borrowed for my own fun and enjoyment. There may be references to shows but this is not based on or made from any of them. |
| AUTHOR'S NOTES: | Due to all that has hit us of late I’m going to assume the workshop we started back in the summer has been postponed indefinitely. As such I will post this little adventure that got me to suggest it in the first place. |
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Phileas complained as he looked out on the sea. They were drifting ten miles off the Newfoundland coast in the Aurora and had been for three days doing nothing but watching the water churn. So far they had spotted three whales and an odd dozen or more fishing vessels. It was cold floating above the icy seas and Phileas was tired of being cold.
This excursion had started as a grand adventure. Jules and he had read of a naturalist in Newfoundland that had put a Leviathan on display. It had been about twenty feet long, found dead by fisherman. But even as a dead carcass it had created quite a stir. It was the first real proof that this giant undersea creature actually existed in the real world rather than the fermented imaginations of men at sea. And as having a pleasure craft such the Aurora made searching the seas an enjoyable easy task, they had agreed to a two week excursion to see if they could spot one of those creatures from the skies.
Jules, who was scanning the horizon beside Phileas, ignored his friend’s comment. Phileas had been wholeheartedly for this expedition. There had been no convincing involved. Jules, however, did understood what the complaints were really about; he was uncomfortable too. They were all beginning to wear under the icy winds and low temperatures.
Passepartout was presently at the steering ball in a dark brown long coat and black stocking cap looking out on the waves with far less enthusiasm that was normal for the exuberant Frenchman. Jules was at the observation window wearing one of Fogg’s long coats over his leather one. His had not been up to the task of this kind of biting weather. He had his binoculars in hand and had just dropped his scanning to the expanse of ocean below him. Fogg, who was bundled up in high style moved on to the other side of the ship to continue scanning the waters. Rebecca had taken to pacing the upper deck doing the same thing. She at least seemed less uncomfortable than the men around her, possibly because her fur lined cloak and multi-layered petticoats gave her more insulation.
As uncomfortable as it was, Jules had to give thanks for the fact that they had not been hit by snow or sleet. The only ice problems so far had been only in the mornings, which melted away as the sun rose out of the sea. None-the-less, this morning, Jules had had to break through an ice barrier in his glass of water before he could take a drink. It had been a very disconcerting thing to tip up a glass of water and have the liquid refuse to come down from the bottom.
“Anything interesting over there,” Jules called out to Fogg?
“Two Right whales,” Fogg answered back, “A mother and her calf.” They came to the surface a few minutes ago. I wonder if the whaling industry wouldn’t improve their catches if they used balloon spotters. I don’t know how much oil one can get from a single whale, but the price per barrel is around fifteen pounds at present.”
“It’s around one hundred and fifty barrels per animal,” Jules supplied. “I have a cousin on a whaling ship. They go after fin whales mostly.”
“Eighteen hundred per whale times whatever the normal catch of a season is,” Fogg considered. No wonder the industry brings in so much money.”
“Tempted to buy a ship and take to the sea Fogg?” Jules jested.
Phileas laughed. “I can think of and currently involve myself in many far less lethal methods of earning a profit. Did your cousin ever mention the process one goes through to search for, harpoon and then bring a whale in for harvesting? I’ve read of it and the doing permanently turned me away from taking to the sea. I do, however, invest in it. A bit of advise to you Verne, now that you’re a man of some means. Always invest in the raw materials. The profits go up with every refinement.”
Jules just grinned. He had already caught on to that bit of economic truth and worked with several investors that agreed with Fogg’s strategy. His had been an idol comment. Gentlemen such as Fogg didn’t go to sea whaling and Jules did indeed know what it took to harvest a whale. His cousin didn’t make any of it sound glamorous, just very lucrative. Actually Gaston had darkened Verne’s doorstep looking for investors and had not gone away fruitless.
A moment later, about a mile out to sea, Jules saw a spouting from some whale that had just surfaced. He assumed it was another right whale. But as they neared, he realized he was watching a sperm whale roll about on the surface. Its box shaped head made it unmistakable. The odd thing was that it seemed to be floundering about in a wild fashion.
“Fogg, do you see that sperm whale up there dead ahead.”
“I couldn’t miss it, the way it is jumping about,” Phileas said watching the animal as it splashed on the surface. “The fellow is either very playful or he’s fighting with something.”
The closer they came, the more clearly the impression that some colossal battle was indeed taking place. Rebecca had caught sight of the floundering whale too and had joined the men in the main cabin to watch. The whale dropped below the surface before they were close enough to see clearly what was going on. The sea was dark and deep and churned from the animals undersea activities. All they could tell was that the battle, if it was a battle, still raged.
“Look there,” Rebecca said as she pointed into the sea just below and in front of them. There was a large object moving about under the water. It might be the whale, but it wasn’t close enough to the surface to tell.
“Passpartout,” Phileas called. “Drop down closer to the surface.”
“As the Aurora descended, the object in the water drifted in and out of their vision, but it did seem to be holding to this area. The murky image only drifted about twenty yards from their position.
All but Passepartout were now outside on either side of the ship on her narrow port and starboard rails scanning the sea for the submerged whale. They would call out to each other as they saw it move in the water.
“Jules,” Phileas called out,” I think it is heading to your side again.”
Jules watched. A shadow appeared in the water for a moment and then disappeared again. Then suddenly, it was back. The shadowy image grew more distinct just under Jules’ position . . . and bigger.
“I think it is surfacing again!” Jules called out to the others as he watched.
He was right.
Rebecca and Phileas headed to his position on his announcement, but didn’t make it in time. The image in the water gained substance as it came closer to the surface. Then before he realized his peril, Jules saw the animal’s head breach and grow more and more massive in his vision as it rose above the surface propelled by its great forward power. The whale came shooting out of the water like a rocket. Before he could consider another thought Jules was slammed against the rail as the animal’s head gave the airship a hard hit with its nose.
At that same instant, everything inside the Aurora was jerked out of position, as if the whale had grabbed the vessel and was trying to drag it into the ocean. Then everything was jerked about again as the Aurora lurched upward, bouncing on her lines.
From Phileas and Rebecca’s point of view, the main cabin became a tumbling barrel ride. They went flying first to the floor and then to the port side, slamming into the bulkhead in a tangle. But before they could even think to right themselves they were propelled upward, as if getting bounced on a trampoline only to slam back down again to the deck in a heap along with everything that had not been tied down.
When he climbed up off the floor and reached the port rail outside, Phileas knew without a doubt what had just happened. One would never have expected a whale to be able to hit a dirigible floating above the ocean. Flying whales just weren’t something Fogg had ever considered worrying about, but now he would know better. The Aurora was still swaying on her ropes rocking back and forth from the breaching whale’s momentum. As carefully as he could, Fogg moved through the wrecked cabin onto the deck. Fogg could see the gargantuan animal rolling in the sea after its flying leap, but wasn’t immediately concerned with it. Jules was no where in sight.
Phileas frantically scanned the water directly beneath them, but couldn’t see any one bobbing about in the water.
“Help!!”
Verne’s voice came loud and clear just under Fogg’s position. Fogg still couldn’t see him, but felt a sudden rush of relief spread through himself at the hearing. If he could hear the man this clearly Jules had not fallen into the water.
“Help!! Fogg!!”
Rebecca came out onto the deck beside him and heard Verne’s cries too. She instantly ran back inside before he could say a word, heading straight to the trap door in the hall and pulled it open. Leaning down through the opening, she looked out and spotted Jules’ legs swaying as he hung by his coat near the ship’s undercarriage. The ornate iron work along the sides had caught the material and snagged him. He was trying to grab hold of the landing rail nearest him as he swayed with the motion of the ship; a rail that had been bent badly in the collision.
Rebecca didn’t hesitate another second. She lost her petticoats and skirt in short order and climbed down onto one of the undercarriage beams heading for her friend. As she neared him, he managed to snag the rail. He was now hanging by a finger hold on it and his coat material. Rebecca wasn’t sure if he had enough of a purchase to hold himself if the coat tore. She renewed her efforts to reach him.
Suddenly, Passepartout was beside her. He must have given up the controls to Phileas. He moved along the structure easier than she did, swinging from one beam to the other in a manner Rebecca considered suicidal. Nonetheless, she was grateful for the man’s acrobatic abilities. Just as the Frenchman reached Jules the coat material tore. If he had not been right there to lend Jules his support, their friend would have fallen into the sea.
For a moment all three just sat there hugging the support beams in relief. Then, with the emergency over, they turned their attention back to the author of their mishap. Down below them, the whale was still rolling about in the ocean. But at this close vantage point all three now understood what had been happening . . . and were all in shock with wonder.
Below them a massive battle had been taking place, and to a degree still was. The whale was wrapped in long tentacles. A leviathan, much larger than the one on display in Newfoundland was grappling with the sperm whale in mortal combat. The whale had part of the creature’s massive elongated head in its mouth. For all they could tell, the two were trying to simultaneously eat each other, with the whale partially succeeding.
“I can’t believe this,” Rebecca said to herself as she watched in shocked fascination.
“Rebecca!”
Rebecca looked up and saw her cousin’s head hanging out of the trap door. She shook herself and headed for the opening.
When everyone was back inside the airship, Passepartout manipulated the controls to move the dirigible back up to a safer altitude. The battle below them had finally ended. The whale appeared to have won and was making quick work of swallowing its massive catch.
“That was unbelievable!” Fogg said from his place in his armchair some moments later. He was holding a glass of brandy, as all of them were doing, to ward off the cold. “I have never heard of such a thing!”
“I don’t think anyone has Fogg,” Jules said from the chase lounge. He was bundled up in thick blankets as was Rebecca and Passepartout. “Just a few years ago, the idea that leviathans actually existed was considered a myth. Apparently, they are prey to sperm whales. If what is believed about them is true and they live in the far depths of the ocean, then that whale must have dove to an incredible depth to catch it before surfacing to kill it.”
“Yes,” Passepartout agreed and then sneezed twice before he could continue. “Yes, creature living in deep deep waters might not be handling lack of pressure well in upper seas. Whale knowing this and bringing it to surface for dinner. But I am thinking that maybe sea monster was bigger than whale knowing. Maybe big enough to be eating whale instead of being eaten.”
“Yes!” Jules agreed thinking on it. “Yes, I think you’re right, Passepartout. I think . . . maybe we just witnessed a centuries old contest between two predators, one of the deep and one of the upper seas. Think about it! These two creatures might do battle like this all the time. Maybe they are each other’s main food source, like . . . well, like umm.” Jules couldn’t think of any land based analogy, but the possibility was fascinating.
“Indeed,” Rebecca said standing by the main window looking out at the whale that was still working on its meal. Only a few tentacles could still be seen protruding from the animal’s mouth. “I’m going to have a new respect for those creatures; every time I buy a new corset I will remember this.”
“I think our expedition is over, don’t you Verne?” Fogg announced. “It’s time to find a warmer climate and leave the creatures of the deep to their business.”
“And what are we going to tell the Royal Academy when we get back?” Jules asked, knowing that his friend had promised to give that body a report of his voyage when he returned. “This sighting of a whale eating a leviathan would put you in the history books for sure.”
“Or put me in Bedlam Hospital,” Fogg countered. “Come Verne, who is going to believe any of what just happened to us outside these walls. We just had a whale jump out of the ocean and strike this ship in the process of grappling with a sea creature you yourself just said no one believed existed just a few years ago. “I’m not about to start a tale that will be scoffed at for years to come. No! We will keep this to ourselves and tell the Academy that we saw five right whales and a sperm whale, and that will be the extent of my report. Only if the President of the National Geographic Society himself were aboard to verify such an unbelievable event would I even think to share this.”
“Then you will have to come up with a reason for the dent in the landing rail,” Rebecca informed him. “That whale left a nose print in it.”
“In iron!” Phileas cried out in shock.
“But we have proofs of what we saw,” Passepartout insisted, countering his master’s decree. “Proofs besides the bending of the landing rail.”
“What do you mean,” Phileas asked?”
“I saw below deck. I show you . . . just a moment.” With that, the Frenchman went back out onto the port side deck. No one followed him. They were still getting over the shock of what had happened to them. Some moments later Passepartout came back into the cabin with a long grappling hook in his hand. On the business end of it was . . . something long and cylindrical in shape, grayish in color and tapering to a rounded point at one end with a jagged and ugly looking tear on the other. Passepartout didn’t bring it into the cabin. He just held the door open to show it to his companions.
“What in the world is that?” Phileas demanded.
“It’s a tentacle!” Rebecca cried out in disgust. “How did you get hold of that?”
“Passepartout thinking sea monster grabbing Aurora as whale bumped ship. But tentacle not strong enough to hold weight of so much heaviness and was torn off. It wrapped around lower bracings.”
Everyone just stared at it for a long moment. The section of torn off tentacle was about four foot long and six inches in diameter at the point tapering up to perhaps nine inches.
Finally Phileas spoke. “I . . . don’t think we have enough of it to be considered real proof,” he speculated. No, it’s . . . too small a section to really count. Pity that; if it were longer or if the head was still attached.” Phileas stopped speculating. “I suppose you should throw it back over the side.”
Passepartout looked at the Aurora’s catch realizing that his master was right. It didn’t really look like anything in particular. One could tell it was part of a tentacle, but not how big the whole tentacle had been. For a moment the Frenchman was disappointed, but then he thought of a way to make an omlette out of their broken egg.
“Master, you like Passepartout’s calamari, no?”
“I like Passepartout’s calamari, yes. Yes indeed.” Then Phileas looked down at the tentacle again, catching his meaning. “That would be more on the lines of a calamari steak, Passepartout. Are you sure you could cook it properly?”
“Is very fresh,” he said with a grin. “Give Passepartout time. I be making fine meal out of this piece of great sea monster.”
Jules, who also wasn’t adverse to fresh seafood, looked at the tentacle with an appraising eye. He wanted to argue that the evidence before them would be enough, but knew it would do no good. Fogg wouldn’t budge. But maybe . . . one day, he might tell the tale of the great leviathan. Until then he would muse about it as he waited for dinner.”
----