Двадцать тысяч лье под водой / Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Gifted with uncommon manual ability, Ned Land was a Canadian who had no equal in his dangerous trade. Dexterity, coolness, bravery, and cunning were virtues he possessed to a high degree. He was about forty years old. A man of great height, he was powerfully built, serious in manner, not very sociable, sometimes headstrong, and quite ill-tempered when crossed.

Commander Farragut, to my thinking, had made a wise move in hiring on this man. With his eye and his throwing arm, he was worth the whole crew all by himself.

I can compare him with a powerful telescope that could serve as a cannon always ready to fire.

To say Canadian is to say French. No doubt it was my nationality that attracted him. It was an opportunity for him to speak, and for me to hear, that old dialect still used in some Canadian provinces.

Little by little Ned developed a taste for chatting, and I loved hearing the tales of his adventures in the polar seas. He described his fishing trips and his battles with great natural lyricism.

I’m writing of this bold companion as I currently know him. Ah, my gallant Ned! I ask only to live 100 years more, the longer to remember you!

And now, what were Ned Land’s views on this question of a marine monster? I must admit that he flatly didn’t believe in the unicorn, and he didn’t share the general conviction.

Three weeks after our departure we had crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, and the Strait of Magellan opened less than 700 miles to the south.

Seated on the afterdeck, Ned Land and I chatted about one thing and another, staring at that mysterious sea whose depths to this day are beyond the reach of human eyes.

“Ned,” I asked him, “how can you still doubt the reality of this cetacean? Do you have any particular reasons for being so skeptical?”

The harpooner stared at me awhile before replying, closed his eyes as if to collect himself, and finally said:

“Just maybe, Professor Aronnax.”

“But Ned, you’re a professional whaler, a man familiar with all the great marine mammals—your mind should easily accept this hypothesis of an enormous cetacean!”

“That’s just where you’re mistaken, professor,” Ned replied.

“The common man may still believe in fabulous comets crossing outer space, or in prehistoric monsters living at the earth’s core, but astronomers and geologists don’t swallow such fairy tales. It’s the same with whalers.