Captain Nemo: The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius (35 page)

Nemo took his leave of the Fergusson residence and of London, and returned to his dreary job reconfiguring the sewers of Paris.

#

Two months later, when the post delivered an exuberant letter from Dr. Samuel Fergusson, Nemo read it in his open doorway with great perplexity.
 

“Yes, my friend!
 
Indeed, this is a most exciting time for us,” the Englishman wrote.
 
“I admit that your proposed terms took me by surprise.
 
They are unorthodox, to say the least, and I needed to adjust my mental state to accept them.
 
But why not, eh?
 
The spirit of exploration requires us to open our minds to all things.
 
Very well, young Nemo -- as soon as arrangements can be made, we shall all be off to Africa.”

Nemo read the note again with a pounding heart, but he could not fathom Fergusson’s meaning.
 
Had the Royal Geographical Society changed its mind, considering Nemo’s modified balloon design?
 
How had the explorer obtained the finances necessary for such an expedition?
 
Nemo had assessed the costs of constructing his balloon-within-a-balloon, and he knew it would not come cheap.

His head was full of questions, yet it would take time for the post to carry a letter across the channel to London -- and Nemo was mad with curiosity.
 
However, before he could compose a note listing his questions, he heard a tentative rapping on his door.
 
Nemo answered the knock to find Caroline standing there in sensible traveling clothes with a small valise at her side.
 
“I hope you were sincere in your wish to travel across Africa, André.”
 

Caroline removed her gloves as she smiled at him.
 
“I have read your letters again and again -- the ones in which you tell me of your ideas and your discussions with this Englishman Fergusson?
 
I know this dream has attached itself to your heart.”

“Yes, of course,” Nemo said, “but --”

“So I wrote to your Dr. Fergusson, and I guaranteed him funding for his supplies, his balloon, and his entire expedition.
 
Both my husband Captain Hatteras and ‘Aronnax, Merchant’ have fortunes to invest.
 
This expedition will honor my husband’s lifelong ambitions of exploration.
 
You will accompany the doctor, of course, because this must be your triumph as well as his.”

Nemo could not contain his excitement.
 
“Were those the terms Dr. Fergusson refers to?
 
That I must accompany him?”

Caroline gave him a mischievous smile, reminding him of the coy young woman he had fallen in love with back in Ile Feydeau.
 
But her bright blue eyes had an entirely different sparkle now.
 
“I made my offer contingent upon several conditions.
 
You are not the only one who longs to break free of a dull life here in France, André.”

Nemo blinked at her, already sure of what she was going to say.

“The other condition is that
I
undertake this expedition with you and Dr. Fergusson.”

iv

The British and French press had a field day with Dr. Fergusson’s preposterous but wonderfully dramatic scheme to cross Africa in a balloon.
 
Jules Verne read about Nemo’s involvement in the daily Paris newspapers even before his dark-haired friend came to see him.

Nemo sent a note asking Verne to meet him that Saturday on the steps of the Louvre.
 
An unsettled Verne went to France’s magnificent art museum to hear what Nemo had to say in person . . . and to try to talk him out of the madness, if at all possible.

A light rain and gray skies had deterred the usual crowds, but people still milled about on the sidewalks and grounds, seeking shelter inside.
 
A mushroom forest of umbrellas sprouted on the street corners, like what Nemo had described finding at the center of the Earth.

The dark-haired young man stood on the steps, smiling at Verne’s approach.
 
As Verne closed his umbrella and shook off the moisture, he saw that Nemo was wet, his long dark hair drenched, his clothes soaked.
 
Verne raised his eyebrows.
 
“I expected a man so accustomed to the hardships of survival to come prepared with an umbrella against the rain.”

Nemo gave Verne a friendly embrace.
 
“A man so accustomed to the hardships of survival does not mind a little moisture.”

They passed under the white arches and entered the enormous museum.
 
Verne had seen the exhibits many times before, often in the company of his artistic friends who spent more time criticizing than enjoying the artwork itself.
 
Verne usually kept his opinions to himself, not understanding the complaints.

Together, the two men strolled past paintings of Napoleon Bonaparte, glorified portrayals of the French Revolution, bucolic landscapes, flowers, portraits of forgotten noblemen.
 
In a casual voice that quickly heated with enthusiasm, Nemo laid out his case for the balloon trip, not surprised that his friend was already familiar with the details.
 
Verne grew uncomfortable listening to every sentence, but he could see the fire in Nemo’s eyes, the passion he had for this excursion, just like he’d shown when talking about his scheme to walk underwater.
 
Nothing would ever sway Nemo once he’d made up his mind.

“I cannot argue with you that crossing darkest Africa is an amazing idea, André.
 
I expected nothing less of your imagination . . . but still, I remain skeptical.
 
Are you certain it’s safe?”

He looked at Verne, his dark eyes flashing, an impish grin on his face.
 
The expression reminded him of the times they had fashioned schemes down on the docks or pored through geography books, trying to outdo each other with tales of exotic lands.
 
“My friend, can you truly be concerned for my safety, after all I have already survived?”

Verne gave a snort and turned away to scrutinize a rather dark and unimaginative still-life of fruit and feathers.
 
“Why should I be concerned about that?
 
For a man who has walked underwater, sailed halfway round the world, fought off pirates, survived on a desert island, and explored the uncharted bowels of the Earth -- why, a simple trip in a balloon is bound to be downright tedious.”

Then Verne drew a deep breath, trying to explain.
 
“André, when I finish at the Academy, I am doomed to life as a small-town lawyer, forced to follow in my father’s tedious footsteps.
 
But you already have a useful, interesting job -- an engineer who has captured the interest of Baron Haussmann and even the Emperor himself.
 
Why would you throw all that away?”

Nemo stared at the stoic expression of Bonaparte in an enormous painting that depicted the battle of Borodinó.
 
“Haussmann has asked me to redesign the Paris sewers, Jules.
 
Surely there will still be work remaining for me when I return from Africa.”
 

They walked along in silence, then paused in front of a painting of an old fisherwoman holding a basket of herring.
 
Nemo had a distant expression on his face, and he responded in a quiet voice that told how well he knew Verne.
 
“Or are you more concerned about Caroline, Jules?
 
Concerned because she’ll be with
me
?”
 

He clutched his friend’s forearm and stared at him.
 
Always before the mutual attraction between Nemo and Caroline had sparked a bit of envy from Verne, but now Nemo was going away with her on a long and dangerous voyage across Africa.
 
Verne’s flushed cheeks and awkward silence told Nemo everything that his friend would not say aloud.
 
“Jules, she is still a married woman.
 
I won’t forget that.
 
Dr. Fergusson will chaperone us at all times.
 
On my honor, I will see to it that no harm befalls her.”

The best Verne could manage was a faint smile.
 
“She could ask for no better protector.”
 
The alabaster statues in the center of the wide hall seemed to look at him skeptically.
 
He didn’t dare say anything more.

He began to walk again, the tip of his umbrella clicking on the polished floor.
 
In a side gallery a worker with a mop did his best to be unobtrusive as he wiped away wet footprints.
 
“If you must know,” Verne said, looking straight ahead in search of another work of art worthy of his attention, “I envy you for actually having the fabulous adventures we talked about as boys.
 
You are seeing the world, experiencing the wonders that I can only imagine.
 
I . . . I have never even set foot outside of France.”

Nemo brightened.
 
“Does this mean you’d like to accompany us, Jules?”

Verne jerked around in undisguised horror.
 
“Of course not!
 
I have my studies here in Paris, and my friends, and --”
 
He sighed.
 
“I’m afraid that would be impossible.”

Nemo patted him on the back.
 
“Never fear, Jules.
 
I promise to tell you all about our excursion when we return.”

#

After months of preparations, Fergusson’s equipment was carefully loaded aboard a British naval vessel tied up in the London estuary.
 
The ship was bound for a trip around Africa, around the Cape of Good Hope and back up to Zanzibar on the east coast of the mysterious continent.
 

Jules Verne did not manage to attend the launch of the ship, though.
 
In his heart, he had wanted to be there to bid Nemo and Caroline farewell, but he could not summon the nerve to cross the choppy waters to England.
 
He had heard that the Channel could be treacherous that time of year, and he was afraid of storms.

v

With full sails flapping in a brisk breeze, the British navy ship set off en route to India.
 
Nemo stood in the open air, grasping one of the thick tie-ropes as he watched the African coastline roll by.
 
He had a strange, empty feeling in his chest, remembering the fateful time he had made a similar voyage as a cabin boy with Captain Grant and Ned Land.

The British vessel journeyed southward, following the
Coralie
’s path around the Cape of Good Hope.
 
This time, of course, Nemo was a passenger, not a crewman.
 
And this voyage had one other tremendous advantage:
 
He would spend a great the time with Caroline.

#

In England, after the Royal Geographical Society had balked at funding the risky and unproven expedition -- leaving Caroline Aronnax to finance the balloon, supplies, and equipment herself -- Dr. Fergusson missed no opportunity to point out to the press that a mere woman (and a
French
woman, at that!) had been willing to invest more in the furtherance of human knowledge than either the Royal Geographical Society, or indeed the entire British government.

Thus shamed, the President of the Society used his political influence to arrange for their passage aboard a British naval vessel around Africa and up the eastern coast to the British protectorate of Zanzibar.
 
Still skeptical, the Society President said that they were willing to take this risk, even with Dr. Fergusson’s unproven designs, even despite his previous disastrous failures.
 
The explorer himself dismissed any doubts.

The ship’s hold contained the ingenious double-balloon, along with the weapons, foodstuffs, and clothing they would need for the journey across the continent.
 
Nemo had spent a month supervising the construction of the lighter-than-air vessel.
 
With staunch British pride, Fergusson had insisted on naming it the
Victoria
after the Queen of England, and Nemo did not argue.
 
After all, he thought, the Emperor of France had assigned
him
to rebuild Parisian sewers. . . .