“Mr. Land, here, does not believe in our aquatic mammal,” said Devries. “It seems only we stuffed shirts are quite so gullible as to give credence to such a theory.”
“Is that so, Mr. Land?” said Verne.
“Just call me Ned,” said Land. “All this Mister this, Professor that, and Doctor whoever makes my head swim.”
“Well, all right, then, Ned. And you must call me Jules.”
“And a fine French name, it is,” said Land. “My grand father was named Jules. But to answer your question, no, I do not.”
“But, Ned, you, a whaler by profession, familiar with all the great marine mammalia, surely you ought to be the last to doubt under such circumstances!”
“That’s just the point, Jules,” Land said. “As a harpooner, I’ve followed many a whale, killed a great number, too. No matter how strong or how large or, like your narwhal, how well armed they may have been, not a one of ‘em would even have been able to scratch the iron plates of a steamer.”
“But, Ned, they tell of ships which the horns of the narwhal have pierced through and through,” said Verne.
“Wooden ships, may be,” said Land. “Me, I’ve never seen it done. Till I see some proof, I deny that whales, cetaceans, sea-unicorns or whatever you want to call ‘em could ever do what you say.”
“Well, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction resting on the logic of facts,” said Verne, while the others followed the animated exchange. “I believe in the existence of a mammal powerfully organized, belonging to the branch of Vertebrata, like the whales, the chachalots or the dolphins, and furnished with a horn of defense of great penetrating power.”
“Humpf!” said Land.
“Keep in mind one thing, my Canadian friend,” said Verne. “If such an animal exists, it inhabits the very depths of the ocean, frequenting the strata lying miles below the surface. It must, therefore, necessarily possess an organization the strength of which would defy all comparison.”
“And why would that be?” Land said.
“Because it would require great strength in order to survive in those depths. Allow me to explain. I am certain our friends here will bring me up short if I am in error. Let us imagine the pressure of the atmosphere is represented by the weight of a column of water 32 feet high. Now, Ned, when you dive, as many times 32 feet of water as there are above you, so many times does your body bear a pressure equal to that of the atmosphere, which is 15 pounds for each square inch of surface.
At 320 feet then, this pressure would equal 10 atmospheres, at 3,200 feet, 100 atmospheres and at 32,000 feet, the pressure would be equal to 1,000 atmospheres. By simple arithmetic, we can determine that if you were able to attain this depth, for every foot you were to go down, your body would be subject to a pressure of approximately half a ton. Now, to a certain degree, this pressure is negligible because the air penetrates the interior of your body with equal pressure. This is why you are able to walk about without perceiving the effects of atmospheric pressure. This is also why you are able to dive down into the water, to a certain depth, and not be crushed. However, the deeper you dive, the more the pressure increases. At 32 feet beneath the surface of the sea, you would undergo a pressure of some 97,500 pounds. And, despite this pressure, pearl divers, for example, are able to survive at such depths. But the pressure increases correspondingly the deeper you go, so that at 32,000 feet, it would be some 97,500,000 pounds — with the result that you would be flattened as if you had been caught between the plates of a hydraulic machine.”
“The devil!” said Land.
“Now,” said Verne, “if some vertebrate, several hundred yards long and large in rough proportion, can survive in such depths, consider then what must be the resistance of its bony structure in order to withstand such amazing pressure.”
“Why,” said Land, “it would have to be as strong as an armored frigate, plated with iron eight inches thick!”
“Exactly,” Verne said. “And think what destruction such a creature would cause if it propelled itself with the speed of a locomotive against the hull of a vessel!”
“Yes, well,” said Land. “Could be. You argue your case most convincingly, mon ami.”
“So have I convinced you?” Verne said.
Recalcitrant to the end, Land shook his head. “I follow your reasoning,” he said, “and you have convinced me that if such creatures exist at the bottom of the sea, then they must needs be as strong as you say. But I will still hold my judgment till I have seen some proof that there are, indeed, such creatures. I’ve spent forty some odd years upon the sea and I have yet to see one.”
Samuelson laughed. “It is quite obvious, Mr. Land, that you will never make a good newspaperman. You are far too pragmatic.”
“And what about you, my friends?” said Verne, turning to the incognito Time Commandos. “You have said nothing. Have you any ideas to contribute to this discussion?”
Lucas cleared his throat. “Well, I am a simple university biology professor. I hesitate to speak in such learned company. However I am of the same opinion as Mr. Land, here. I prefer to reserve judgment until some tangible evidence is at hand. There have certainly been enough curious reports to warrant an investigation, which is why we are all here, but none of us have any idea, really, just what it is we are investigating. I am enthusiastic over the possibility of there being some unique aquatic form of life heretofore unknown, but then the ocean is quite large and for all we know, we may even be searching in the wrong waters. These things take time. Fortunately, I am on sabbatical and this provides a convenient excuse to legitimize a long sea voyage. Perhaps we shall encounter something, perhaps not. I am content to wait and see.”
“A most laudable attitude,” said Devries. “Chances are, indeed, we will encounter nothing of any significance. However, one never knows until one goes and looks, eh?”
“And what about yourself, Dr. Delaney?” Verne said.
Finn shrugged. “If we do not find anything, Professor Cross and I will have wasted our time, so I prefer to remain optimistic. The university expects something for its money. I hope we won’t have to disappoint them.”
“How does Dr. Martinson regard this curious phenomenon?” said Verne.
“Dr. Martinson?” said Finn.
“Yes, surely, being from the University of Boston, you know him?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Finn. “It’s quite a large university, you know.”
Verne frowned. “But Phillip Martinson is the chairman of the Department of Marine Biology!” he said. “How can you not know him? Surely, he must have conferred with you concerning this voyage!”
“Oh, Phillip!” Finn said, quickly. “Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me, I tend to be a bit preoccupied on occasion. Yes, well, we spoke about it briefly and his attitude was much the same as Professor Priest’s. Cautious optimism, you know.”
“I trust his leg is better,” Verne said. “He was having difficulty with it when last I saw him. It must have healed by now.”
“Oh, yes, Phillip is just fine,” Finn said. “He bounds about the campus like an undergraduate.”
Verne smiled. “I’m very pleased to hear that.” The ship gave a lurch. “Well, I perceive we are getting under way. If you gentlemen, and lady, will excuse me, I think I will go up on deck and watch as we leave the harbor.”
“Let’s all go,” said Devries. “It will be a while before we see land again.”
As they filed out of the wardroom, Verne drew Finn aside momentarily, letting the others go before them.
“I just wanted to tell you, Doctor,” he said, “how very pleased I was to hear Phillip Martinson is feeling so much better. Truly, it must have been an astonishing recovery. Doubtless, they’ll be writing it up in the Lancet any day now.”
“Oh?” said Finn, feeling suddenly unsure of his ground.
“Yes, quite,” said Verne, smiling. “You see, Phillip Martinson has been confined to a wheelchair these past four years. He lost both his legs at Shiloh.”
