SFworld 版 (精华区)
发信人: champaign (原野), 信区: SFworld
标 题: Under the sea 44
发信站: 哈工大紫丁香 (Fri Oct 22 07:51:36 1999), 转信
发信人: Mojun (寻找mili的mickey), 信区: SFworld
标 题: Under the sea 44
发信站: BBS 水木清华站 (Sun Apr 5 16:13:30 1998) WWW-POST
CHAPTER XXI.
A HECATOMB.
THE WAY of describing this unlooked-for scene, the history of
the patriot ship, told at first so coldly, and the emotion with
which this strange man pronounced the last words, the name of the
Avenger, the significance of which could not escape me, all
impressed itself deeply on my mind. My eyes did not leave the captain;
who, with his hand stretched out to sea, was watching with a glowing
eye the glorious wreck. Perhaps I was never to know who he was, whence
he came, or where he was going, but I saw the man move, and apart from
the savant. It was no common misanthropy which had shut Captain Nemo
and his companions within the Nautilus, but a hatred, either monstrous
or sublime, which time could never weaken. Did this hatred still
seek for vengeance? The future would soon teach me that. But the
Nautilus was rising slowly to the surface of the sea, and the form
of the Avenger disappeared by degrees from my sight. Soon a slight
rolling told me that we were in the open air. At that moment a dull
boom was heard. I looked at the captain. He did not move.
"Captain?" said I.
He did not answer. I left him and mounted the platform. Conseil
and the Canadian were already there.
"Where did that sound come from?" I asked.
"It was a gunshot," replied Ned Land.
I looked in the direction of the vessel I had already seen. It was
nearing the Nautilus, and we could see that it was putting on steam.
It was within six miles of us.
"What is that ship, Ned?"
"By its rigging, and the height of its lower masts," said the
Canadian, "I bet she is a ship of war. May it reach us; and, if
necessary, sink this cursed Nautilus."
"Friend Ned," replied Conseil, "what harm can it do to the
Nautilus? Can it attack it beneath the waves? Can it cannonade us at
the bottom of the sea?"
"Tell me, Ned," said I, "can you recognize what country she
belongs to?"
The Canadian knitted his eyebrows, dropped his eyelids, and
screwed up the corners of his eyes, and for a few moments fixed a
piercing look upon the vessel.
"No, Sir," he replied; "I cannot tell what nation she belongs
to, for she shows no colors. But I can declare she is a man-of-war,
for a long pennant flutters from her mainmast."
For a quarter of an hour we watched the ship which was steaming
toward us. I could not however believe that she could see the Nautilus
from that distance; and still less, that she could know what this
submarine engine was. Soon the Canadian informed me that she was a
large armored two-decker ram. A thick black smoke was pouring from her
two funnels. Her closely furled sails were stopped to her yards. She
hoisted no flag at her mizzenpeak. The distance prevented us from
distinguishing the colors of her pennant, which floated like a thin
ribbon. She advanced rapidly. If Captain Nemo allowed her to approach,
there was a chance of salvation for us.
"Sir," said Ned Land, "if that vessel passes within a mile of
us, I shall throw myself into the sea, and I should advise you to do
the same."
I did not reply to the Canadian's suggestion, but continued
watching the ship. Whether English, French, American, or Russian,
she would be sure to take us in if we could only reach her.
Presently a white smoke burst from the fore part of the vessel; some
seconds after the water, agitated by the fall of a heavy body,
splashed the stern of the Nautilus, and shortly afterwards a loud
explosion struck my ear.
"What! they are firing at us!" I exclaimed.
"So please you, Sir," said Ned, "they have recognized the unicorn,
and they are firing at us."
"But," I exclaimed, "surely they can see that there are men in the
case?"
"It is, perhaps, because of that," replied Ned Land, looking at
me.
A whole flood of light burst upon my mind. Doubtless they knew now
how to believe the stories of the pretended monster. No doubt, on
board the Abraham Lincoln, when the Canadian struck it with the
harpoon, Commander Farragut had recognized in the supposed narwhal a
submarine vessel, more dangerous than a supernatural cetacean. Yes, it
must have been so; and on every sea they were now seeking this
engine of destruction. Terrible indeed! if, as we supposed, Captain
Nemo employed the Nautilus in works of vengeance. On the night when we
were imprisoned in that cell, in the midst of the Indian Ocean, had he
not attacked some vessel? The man buried in the coral cemetery, had he
not been a victim to the shock caused by the Nautilus? Yes, I repeat
it, it must be so. One part of the mysterious existence of Captain
Nemo had been unveiled; and, if his identity had not been
recognized, at least, the nations united against him were no longer
hunting a chimerical creature, but a man who had vowed a deadly hatred
against them. All the formidable past rose before me. Instead of
meeting friends on board the approaching ship, we could only expect
pitiless enemies. But the shot rattled about us. Some of them struck
the sea and ricocheted, losing themselves in the distance. But none
touched the Nautilus. The vessel was not more than three miles from
us. In spite of the serious cannonade, Captain Nemo did not appear
on the platform; but, if one of the conical projectiles had struck the
shell of the Nautilus, it would have been fatal. The Canadian then
said, "Sir, we must do all we can to get out of this dilemma. Let us
signal them. They will then, perhaps, understand that we are honest
folks."
Ned Land took his handkerchief to wave in the air; but he had
scarcely displayed it when he was struck down by an iron hand, and
fell, in spite of his great strength, upon the deck.
"Fool!" exclaimed the captain, "do you wish to be pierced by the
spur of the Nautilus before it is hurled at this vessel?"
Captain Nemo was terrible to hear; he was still more terrible to
see. His face was deadly pale, with a spasm at his heart. For an
instant it must have ceased to beat. His pupils were fearfully
contracted. He did not speak, he roared, as, with his body thrown
forward he wrung the Canadian's shoulders. Then, leaving him, and
turning to the ship of war, whose shot was still raining around him,
he exclaimed, with a powerful voice, "Ah, ship of an accursed
nation, you know who I am! I do not want your colors to know you by!
Look! and I will show you mine!"
And on the fore part of the platform Captain Nemo unfurled a black
flag, similar to the one he had placed at the South Pole. At that
moment a shot struck the shell of the Nautilus obliquely, without
piercing it; and, rebounding near the captain, was lost in the sea. He
shrugged his shoulders; and addressing me, said shortly, "Go down, you
and your companions, go down!"
"Sir," I exclaimed, "are you going to attack this vessel?"
"Sir, I am going to sink it."
"You will not do that?"
"I shall do it," he replied coldly. "And I advise you not to judge
me, Sir. Fate has shown you what you ought not to have seen. The
attack has begun; go down."
"What is this vessel?"
"You do not know? Very well! so much the better! Its nationality
to you, at least, will be a secret. Go down!"
We could but obey. About fifteen of the sailors surrounded the
captain, looking with implacable hatred at the vessel nearing them.
One could feel that the same desire of vengeance animated every
soul. I went down at the moment another projectile struck the
Nautilus, and I heard the captain exclaim:
"Strike, mad vessel! Shower your useless shot! And then, you
will not escape the spur of the Nautilus. But it is not here that
you shall perish! I would not have your ruins mingle with those of the
Avenger!"
I reached my room. The captain and his second had remained on
the platform. The screw was set in motion, and the Nautilus, moving
with speed, was soon beyond the reach of the ship's guns. But the
pursuit continued, and Captain Nemo contented himself with keeping his
distance.
About four in the afternoon, being no longer able to contain my
impatience, I went to the central staircase. The panel was open, and I
ventured on to the platform. The captain was still walking up and down
with an agitated step. He was looking at the ship, which was five or
six miles to leeward.
He was going round it like a wild beast, and drawing it
eastward, he allowed them to pursue. But he did not attack. Perhaps he
still hesitated? I wished to mediate once more. But I had scarcely
spoken, when Captain Nemo imposed silence, saying:
"I am the law, and I am the judge! I am the oppressed, and there
is the oppressor! Through him I have lost all that I loved, cherished,
and venerated,- country, wife, children, father, and mother. I saw all
perish! All that I hate is there! Say no more!"
I cast a last look at the man-of-war, which was putting on
steam, and rejoined Ned and Conseil.
"We will fly!" I exclaimed.
"Good!" said Ned. "What is this vessel?"
"I do not know; but whatever it is, it will be sunk before
night. In any case, it is better to perish with it, than be made
accomplices in a retaliation, the justice of which we cannot judge."
"That is my opinion too," said Ned Land, coolly. "Let us wait
for night."
Night arrived. Deep silence reigned on board. The compass showed
that the Nautilus had not altered its course. It was on the surface,
rolling slightly. My companions and I resolved to fly when the
vessel should be near enough either to hear us or to see us; for the
moon, which would be full in two or three days, shone brightly. Once
on board the ship, if we could not prevent the blow which threatened
it, we could, at least we would, do all that circumstances would
allow. Several times I thought the Nautilus was preparing for
attack; but Captain Nemo contented himself with allowing his adversary
to approach, and then fled once more before it.
Part of the night passed without any incident. We watched the
opportunity for action. We spoke little, for we were too much moved.
Ned Land would have thrown himself into the sea, but I forced him to
wait. According to my idea, the Nautilus would attack the ship at
her water line, and then it would not only be possible, but easy to
fly.
At three in the morning, full of uneasiness, I mounted the
platform. Captain Nemo had not left it. He was standing at the fore
part near his flag, which a slight breeze displayed above his head. He
did not take his eyes from the vessel. The intensity of his look
seemed to attract and fascinate and draw it onward more surely than if
he had been towing it. The moon was then passing the meridian. Jupiter
was rising in the east. Amid this peaceful scene of nature, sky and
ocean rivaled each other in tranquility, the sea offering to the
orbs of night the finest mirror they could ever have in which to
reflect their image. As I thought of the deep calm of these
elements, compared with all those passions brooding imperceptibly.
within the Nautilus, I shuddered.
The vessel was within two miles of us. It was ever nearing that
phosphorescent light which showed the presence of the Nautilus. I
could see its green and red lights, and its white lantern hanging from
the large foremast. An indistinct vibration quivered through its
rigging, showing that the furnaces were heated to the uttermost.
Sheaves of sparks and red ashes flew from the funnels, shining in
the atmosphere like stars.
I remained thus until six in the morning, without Captain Nemo
noticing me. The ship stood about a mile and a half from us, and
with the first dawn of day the firing began afresh. The moment could
not be far off when, the Nautilus attacking its adversary, my
companions and myself should forever leave this man. I was preparing
to go down to remind them, when the second mounted the platform,
accompanied by several sailors. Captain Nemo either did not, or
would not, see them. Some steps were taken which might be called the
signal for action. They were very simple. The iron balustrade around
the platform was lowered, and the lantern and pilot cages were
pushed within the shell until they were flush with the deck. The
long surface of the steel cigar no longer offered a single point to
check its maneuvers. I returned to the saloon. The Nautilus still
floated; some streaks of light were filtering through the liquid beds.
With the undulations of the waves, the windows were brightened by
the red streaks of the rising sun, and this dreadful day of June 2 had
dawned.
At five o'clock, the log showed that the speed of the Nautilus was
slackening, and I knew that it was allowing them to draw nearer.
Besides, the reports were heard more distinctly, and the
projectiles, laboring through the ambient water, were distinguished
with a strange hissing noise.
"My friends," said I, "the moment has come. One grasp of the hand,
and may God protect us!" Ned Land was resolute, Conseil calm, myself
so nervous that I knew not how to contain myself. We all passed into
the library; but the moment I pushed the door opening on to the
central staircase, I heard the upper panel close sharply. The Canadian
rushed on to the stairs, but I stopped him. A well-known hissing noise
told me that the water was running into the reservoirs, and in a few
minutes the Nautilus was some yards beneath the surface of the
waves. I understood the maneuver. It was too late to act. The Nautilus
did not wish to strike at the impenetrable cuirass, but below the
water line, where the metallic covering no longer protected it.
We were again imprisoned, unwilling witnesses of the dreadful
drama that was preparing. We had scarcely time to reflect; taking
refuge in my room, we looked at each other without speaking. A deep
stupor had taken hold of my mind: thought seemed to stand still. I was
in that painful state of expectation preceding a dreadful report. I
waited, I listened, every sense was merged in that of hearing! The
speed of the Nautilus was accelerated. It was preparing to rush. The
whole ship trembled. Suddenly I screamed. I felt the shock, but
comparatively light. I felt the penetrating power of the steel spur. I
heard rattlings and scrapings. But the Nautilus, carried along by
its propelling power, passed through the mass of the vessel, like a
needle through sailcloth!
I could stand it no longer. Mad, out of my mind, I rushed from
my room into the saloon. Captain Nemo was there, mute, gloomy,
implacable; he was looking through the port panel. A large mass cast a
shadow on the water; and that it might lose nothing of her agony,
the Nautilus was going down into the abyss with her. Ten yards from me
I saw the open shell through which the water was rushing with the
noise of thunder, then the double line of guns and the netting. The
bridge was covered with black agitated shadows.
The water was rising. The poor creatures were crowding the
rattlings, clinging to the masts, struggling under the water. It was a
human ant heap overtaken by the sea. Paralyzed, stiffened with
anguish, my hair standing on end, with eyes wide open, panting,
without breath, and without voice, I, too, was watching! An
irresistible attraction glued me to the glass! Suddenly an explosion
took place. The compressed air blew up her decks, as if the
magazines had caught fire. Then the unfortunate vessel sank more
rapidly. Her topmast, laden with victims, now appeared; then her
spars, bending under the weight of men; and last of all, the top of
her mainmast. Then the dark mass disappeared, and with it the dead
crew, drawn down by the strong eddy.
I turned to Captain Nemo. That terrible avenger, a perfect
archangel of hatred, was still looking. When all was over, he turned
to his room, opened the door, and entered. I followed him with, my
eyes. On the end wall beneath his heroes, I saw the portrait of a
woman still young, and two little children. Captain Nemo looked at
them for some moments, stretched his arms toward them, and kneeling
down burst into deep sobs.
--
我这样爱你到底对不对,
这问题问得我自己好累。
我宁愿流泪,也不愿意后悔
可是我最后注定还是要心碎
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