Chapter Chapter 41 · THE POULPS

OULPS

For several days the _Nautilus_ kept off from the American coast.

Evidently it did not wish to risk the tides of the Gulf of Mexico or of

the sea of the Antilles. April 16th, we sighted Martinique and

Guadaloupe from a distance of about thirty miles. I saw their tall

peaks for an instant. The Canadian, who counted on carrying out his

projects in the Gulf, by either landing or hailing one of the numerous

boats that coast from one island to another, was quite disheartened.

Flight would have been quite practicable, if Ned Land had been able to

take possession of the boat without the Captain’s knowledge. But in the

open sea it could not be thought of. The Canadian, Conseil, and I had a

long conversation on this subject. For six months we had been prisoners

on board the _Nautilus_. We had travelled 17,000 leagues; and, as Ned

Land said, there was no reason why it should come to an end. We could

hope nothing from the Captain of the _Nautilus_, but only from

ourselves. Besides, for some time past he had become graver, more

retired, less sociable. He seemed to shun me. I met him rarely.

Formerly he was pleased to explain the submarine marvels to me; now he

left me to my studies, and came no more to the saloon. What change had

come over him? For what cause? For my part, I did not wish to bury with

me my curious and novel studies. I had now the power to write the true

book of the sea; and this book, sooner or later, I wished to see

daylight. The land nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas. There

rose high submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was about

eleven o’clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable

pricking, like the sting of an ant, which was produced by means of

large seaweeds.

“Well,” I said, “these are proper caverns for poulps, and I should not

be astonished to see some of these monsters.”

“What!” said Conseil; “cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod

class?”

“No,” I said, “poulps of huge dimensions.”

“I will never believe that such animals exist,” said Ned.

“Well,” said Conseil, with the most serious air in the world, “I

remember perfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under the waves by

an octopus’s arm.”

“You saw that?” said the Canadian.

“Yes, Ned.”

“With your own eyes?”

“With my own eyes.”

“Where, pray, might that be?”

“At St. Malo,” answered Conseil.

“In the port?” said Ned, ironically.

“No; in a church,” replied Conseil.

“In a church!” cried the Canadian.

“Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question.”

“Good!” said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.

“He is quite right,” I said. “I have heard of this picture; but the

subject represented is taken from a legend, and you know what to think

of legends in the matter of natural history. Besides, when it is a

question of monsters, the imagination is apt to run wild. Not only is

it supposed that these poulps can draw down vessels, but a certain

Olaus Magnus speaks of an octopus a mile long that is more like an

island than an animal. It is also said that the Bishop of Nidros was

building an altar on an immense rock. Mass finished, the rock began to

walk, and returned to the sea. The rock was a poulp. Another Bishop,

Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on which a regiment of cavalry

could manœuvre. Lastly, the ancient naturalists speak of monsters whose

mouths were like gulfs, and which were too large to pass through the

Straits of Gibraltar.”

“But how much is true of these stories?” asked Conseil.

“Nothing, my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth

to get to fable or legend. Nevertheless, there must be some ground for

the imagination of the story-tellers. One cannot deny that poulps and

cuttlefish exist of a large species, inferior, however, to the

cetaceans. Aristotle has stated the dimensions of a cuttlefish as five

cubits, or nine feet two inches. Our fishermen frequently see some that

are more than four feet long. Some skeletons of poulps are preserved in

the museums of Trieste and Montpelier, that measure two yards in

length. Besides, according to the calculations of some naturalists, one

of these animals only six feet long would have tentacles twenty-seven

feet long. That would suffice to make a formidable monster.”

“Do they fish for them in these days?” asked Ned.

“If they do not fish for them, sailors see them at least. One of my

friends, Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has often affirmed that he met one

of these monsters of colossal dimensions in the Indian seas. But the

most astonishing fact, and which does not permit of the denial of the

existence of these gigantic animals, happened some years ago, in 1861.”

“What is the fact?” asked Ned Land.

“This is it. In 1861, to the north-east of Teneriffe, very nearly in

the same latitude we are in now, the crew of the despatch-boat Alector

perceived a monstrous cuttlefish swimming in the waters. Captain

Bouguer went near to the animal, and attacked it with harpoon and guns,

without much success, for balls and harpoons glided over the soft

flesh. After several fruitless attempts the crew tried to pass a

slip-knot round the body of the mollusc. The noose slipped as far as

the tail fins and there stopped. They tried then to haul it on board,

but its weight was so considerable that the tightness of the cord

separated the tail from the body, and, deprived of this ornament, he

disappeared under the water.”

“Indeed! is that a fact?”

“An indisputable fact, my good Ned. They proposed to name this poulp

‘Bouguer’s cuttlefish.’”

“What length was it?” asked the Canadian.

“Did it not measure about six yards?” said Conseil, who, posted at the

window, was examining again the irregular windings of the cliff.

“Precisely,” I replied.

“Its head,” rejoined Conseil, “was it not crowned with eight tentacles,

that beat the water like a nest of serpents?”

“Precisely.”

“Had not its eyes, placed at the back of its head, considerable

development?”

“Yes, Conseil.”

“And was not its mouth like a parrot’s beak?”

“Exactly, Conseil.”

“Very well! no offence to master,” he replied, quietly; “if this is not

Bouguer’s cuttlefish, it is, at least, one of its brothers.”

I looked at Conseil. Ned Land hurried to the window.

“What a horrible beast!” he cried.

I looked in my turn, and could not repress a gesture of disgust. Before

my eyes was a horrible monster worthy to figure in the legends of the

marvellous. It was an immense cuttlefish, being eight yards long. It

swam crossways in the direction of the _Nautilus_ with great speed,

watching us with its enormous staring green eyes. Its eight arms, or

rather feet, fixed to its head, that have given the name of cephalopod

to these animals, were twice as long as its body, and were twisted like

the furies’ hair. One could see the 250 air holes on the inner side of

the tentacles. The monster’s mouth, a horned beak like a parrot’s,

opened and shut vertically. Its tongue, a horned substance, furnished

with several rows of pointed teeth, came out quivering from this

veritable pair of shears. What a freak of nature, a bird’s beak on a

mollusc! Its spindle-like body formed a fleshy mass that might weigh

4,000 to 5,000 lbs.; the, varying colour changing with great rapidity,

according to the irritation of the animal, passed successively from

livid grey to reddish brown. What irritated this mollusc? No doubt the

presence of the _Nautilus_, more formidable than itself, and on which

its suckers or its jaws had no hold. Yet, what monsters these poulps

are! what vitality the Creator has given them! what vigour in their

movements! and they possess three hearts! Chance had brought us in

presence of this cuttlefish, and I did not wish to lose the opportunity

of carefully studying this specimen of cephalopods. I overcame the

horror that inspired me, and, taking a pencil, began to draw it.

“Perhaps this is the same which the Alector saw,” said Conseil.

“No,” replied the Canadian; “for this is whole, and the other had lost

its tail.”

“That is no reason,” I replied. “The arms and tails of these animals

are re-formed by renewal; and in seven years the tail of Bouguer’s

cuttlefish has no doubt had time to grow.”

By this time other poulps appeared at the port light. I counted seven.

They formed a procession after the _Nautilus_, and I heard their beaks

gnashing against the iron hull. I continued my work. These monsters

kept in the water with such precision that they seemed immovable.

Suddenly the _Nautilus_ stopped. A shock made it tremble in every

plate.

“Have we struck anything?” I asked.

“In any case,” replied the Canadian, “we shall be free, for we are

floating.”

The _Nautilus_ was floating, no doubt, but it did not move. A minute

passed. Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, entered the

drawing-room. I had not seen him for some time. He seemed dull. Without

noticing or speaking to us, he went to the panel, looked at the poulps,

and said something to his lieutenant. The latter went out. Soon the

panels were shut. The ceiling was lighted. I went towards the Captain.

“A curious collection of poulps?” I said.

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Naturalist,” he replied; “and we are going to fight

them, man to beast.”

I looked at him. I thought I had not heard aright.

“Man to beast?” I repeated.

“Yes, sir. The screw is stopped. I think that the horny jaws of one of

the cuttlefish is entangled in the blades. That is what prevents our

moving.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Rise to the surface, and slaughter this vermin.”

“A difficult enterprise.”

“Yes, indeed. The electric bullets are powerless against the soft

flesh, where they do not find resistance enough to go off. But we shall

attack them with the hatchet.”

“And the harpoon, sir,” said the Canadian, “if you do not refuse my

help.”

“I will accept it, Master Land.”

“We will follow you,” I said, and, following Captain Nemo, we went

towards the central staircase.

There, about ten men with boarding-hatchets were ready for the attack.

Conseil and I took two hatchets; Ned Land seized a harpoon. The

_Nautilus_ had then risen to the surface. One of the sailors, posted on

the top ladderstep, unscrewed the bolts of the panels. But hardly were

the screws loosed, when the panel rose with great violence, evidently

drawn by the suckers of a poulp’s arm. Immediately one of these arms

slid like a serpent down the opening and twenty others were above. With

one blow of the axe, Captain Nemo cut this formidable tentacle, that

slid wriggling down the ladder. Just as we were pressing one on the

other to reach the platform, two other arms, lashing the air, came down

on the seaman placed before Captain Nemo, and lifted him up with

irresistible power. Captain Nemo uttered a cry, and rushed out. We

hurried after him.

[Illustration] One of these long arms glided through the opening

What a scene! The unhappy man, seized by the tentacle and fixed to the

suckers, was balanced in the air at the caprice of this enormous trunk.

He rattled in his throat, he was stifled, he cried, “Help! help!” These

words, spoken in French, startled me! I had a fellow-countryman on

board, perhaps several! That heart-rending cry! I shall hear it all my

life. The unfortunate man was lost. Who could rescue him from that

powerful pressure? However, Captain Nemo had rushed to the poulp, and

with one blow of the axe had cut through one arm. His lieutenant

struggled furiously against other monsters that crept on the flanks of

the _Nautilus_. The crew fought with their axes. The Canadian, Conseil,

and I buried our weapons in the fleshy masses; a strong smell of musk

penetrated the atmosphere. It was horrible!

For one instant, I thought the unhappy man, entangled with the poulp,

would be torn from its powerful suction. Seven of the eight arms had

been cut off. One only wriggled in the air, brandishing the victim like

a feather. But just as Captain Nemo and his lieutenant threw themselves

on it, the animal ejected a stream of black liquid. We were blinded

with it. When the cloud dispersed, the cuttlefish had disappeared, and

my unfortunate countryman with it. Ten or twelve poulps now invaded the

platform and sides of the _Nautilus_. We rolled pell-mell into the

midst of this nest of serpents, that wriggled on the platform in the

waves of blood and ink. It seemed as though these slimy tentacles

sprang up like the hydra’s heads. Ned Land’s harpoon, at each stroke,

was plunged into the staring eyes of the cuttle fish. But my bold

companion was suddenly overturned by the tentacles of a monster he had

not been able to avoid.

Ah! how my heart beat with emotion and horror! The formidable beak of a

cuttlefish was open over Ned Land. The unhappy man would be cut in two.

I rushed to his succour. But Captain Nemo was before me; his axe

disappeared between the two enormous jaws, and, miraculously saved, the

Canadian, rising, plunged his harpoon deep into the triple heart of the

poulp.

“I owed myself this revenge!” said the Captain to the Canadian.

Ned bowed without replying. The combat had lasted a quarter of an hour.

The monsters, vanquished and mutilated, left us at last, and

disappeared under the waves. Captain Nemo, covered with blood, nearly

exhausted, gazed upon the sea that had swallowed up one of his

companions, and great tears gathered in his eyes.

CHAPT