For several days, the Nautilus stayed away from the American coastline. Captain Nemo clearly did not want to risk entering the dangerous waters of the Gulf of Mexico or the Caribbean Sea.
On April 16th, we saw the distant outlines of Martinique and Guadeloupe, about thirty miles away. For only a moment, I caught sight of their tall mountain peaks.
Ned Land, who had hoped to escape in the Gulf by reaching land or contacting one of the many boats traveling between the islands, became deeply disappointed.
If he could have taken control of the Nautilus’s small boat without Captain Nemo discovering it, escape might have been possible. But in the middle of the open sea, such a plan was impossible.
Ned, Conseil, and I often discussed our situation.
For six months, we had been prisoners aboard the Nautilus. We had traveled more than 17,000 leagues, and as Ned said, there was no reason to believe our journey would ever end.
We could not expect help from Captain Nemo. We had to depend only on ourselves.
At the same time, Captain Nemo had changed. He had become more serious, more distant, and less willing to speak with others.
He seemed to avoid me.
I rarely saw him now.
In the past, he had enjoyed explaining the wonders of the underwater world to me. But recently, he left me alone with my studies and no longer came to the main salon.
What had caused this change?
What had happened to him?
As for me, I did not want all my remarkable discoveries to disappear with me forever.
I now had the ability to write the true history of the ocean, and sooner or later, I wanted that book to reach the world above.
The closest land ahead was the Bahamas.
Beneath the sea there were enormous underwater cliffs covered with thick layers of seaweed.
Around eleven o’clock, Ned Land suddenly called my attention to a strange sensation.
The large sea plants around us caused a sharp, stinging feeling against the skin, like the prick of an ant.
“These waters look like the perfect hiding place for giant squid,” I said. “I would not be surprised if we saw some of those creatures.”
“What?” Conseil exclaimed. “Real squid? Members of the cephalopod family?”
“Not ordinary squid,” I replied. “I mean enormous ones.”
“I refuse to believe such creatures exist,” Ned said.
“Well,” Conseil said with a completely serious expression, “I clearly remember seeing a huge ship being pulled beneath the waves by an octopus’s arm.”
“You saw that?” Ned asked.
“Yes, Ned.”
“With your own eyes?”
“With my own eyes.”
“Where exactly did you see this?”
“In Saint-Malo,” Conseil answered.
“In the harbor?” Ned asked sarcastically.
“No,” Conseil replied. “Inside a church.”
“Inside a church?” Ned shouted.
“Yes, my friend Ned. It was a painting showing the octopus.”
“Excellent!” Ned laughed.
“He is not completely wrong,” I said. “I have heard about that painting. However, the story comes from a legend, and legends are not always reliable when it comes to natural history.”
“When people talk about monsters, imagination often takes over.”
“Some stories claim these creatures can pull entire ships underwater. One writer, Olaus Magnus, even described an octopus nearly a mile long, so large that it looked more like an island than an animal.”
“Another story says a bishop built an altar on what appeared to be a giant rock. After the ceremony ended, the rock began moving and returned to the sea. The ‘rock’ was actually a giant squid.”
“Another bishop, Pontoppidan, wrote about a squid so large that an entire cavalry unit could supposedly ride across its back.”
“Ancient naturalists also described monsters with mouths like enormous caves, too large even to pass through the Strait of Gibraltar.”
“But how much of that is actually true?” Conseil asked.
“Almost none of it, my friends,” I replied. “At least, not the parts that cross the boundary between reality and fantasy.”
“However, these legends must have come from somewhere. Large species of squid and octopus truly exist, although they are much smaller than whales.”
“Aristotle recorded a squid measuring five cubits, or about nine feet two inches. Fishermen today often see specimens longer than four feet.”
“Some squid skeletons preserved in the museums of Trieste and Montpellier measure nearly two yards long.”
“According to some naturalists, even a creature only six feet long could have tentacles reaching twenty-seven feet. Such an animal would already be terrifying.”
“Do people still hunt them?” Ned asked.
“Perhaps they do not hunt them often, but sailors still see them. A friend of mine, Captain Paul Bos of Havre, has repeatedly claimed that he encountered enormous squid in the Indian Ocean.”
“But the most convincing proof that giant squid exist happened several years ago, in 1861.”
“What happened?” Ned asked.
“This is the story.”
“In 1861, northeast of Tenerife, almost at the same latitude where we are now, the crew of the dispatch ship Alector saw a gigantic squid swimming near their vessel.”
“Captain Bouguer approached the creature and attacked it with harpoons and guns. But the weapons were useless. The bullets and harpoons simply slid across its soft body.”
“After several failed attempts, the crew tried to throw a rope loop around the creature.”
“The rope slipped down toward its tail fins and became stuck there.”
“They then tried to pull the monster aboard, but its enormous weight was too great. The tight rope cut through the tail, separating it from the body.”
“Without its tail, the creature disappeared beneath the waves.”
“Really? That actually happened?” Ned asked.
“An undeniable fact, my good Ned. They even proposed naming the creature ‘Bouguer’s squid.’”
“How long was it?” Ned asked.
“About six yards,” I replied.
“Was its head surrounded by eight tentacles that moved through the water like a nest of snakes?” Conseil asked, looking through the window at the strange shapes outside.
“Exactly.”
“Were its eyes large and located on the back of its head?”
“Yes, Conseil.”
“And did it have a mouth shaped like a parrot’s beak?”
“Exactly.”
“Then,” Conseil said calmly, “if this is not Bouguer’s squid, it must certainly be one of its relatives.”
I looked at Conseil.
Ned immediately rushed to the window.
“What a terrible creature!” he shouted.
I looked as well, and I could not stop myself from feeling disgust.
Before us was a monster worthy of the darkest legends.
It was a gigantic squid, nearly eight yards long.
It moved sideways through the water toward the Nautilus with incredible speed, watching us with enormous green eyes.
Its eight arms—or rather, its eight powerful tentacles—grew directly from its head. They were twice as long as its body and twisted wildly like the hair of mythical monsters.
On the inner surface of each tentacle, we could see hundreds of suction cups.
Its mouth was a hard, curved beak like that of a parrot. It opened and closed vertically.
Inside was a rough, horn-like tongue covered with rows of sharp teeth. It moved like a living pair of scissors.
What an incredible creation of nature!
A bird-like beak attached to a soft-bodied creature!
Its long, rounded body formed a huge mass of flesh that must have weighed several thousand pounds.
Its skin changed color rapidly as it became more irritated, shifting from pale gray to reddish brown.
What had disturbed this creature?
Without doubt, it was the presence of the Nautilus.
The squid had no way to attack such a powerful machine. Its suckers and jaws could not grip the metal hull.
Yet what extraordinary creatures these squid were!
What incredible strength and energy they possessed!
They even had three hearts.
This unexpected encounter gave me a rare opportunity. I did not want to waste the chance to study such a remarkable cephalopod.
I forced myself to overcome my fear, took out my pencil, and began drawing the creature.
“Perhaps this is the same squid that the Alector saw,” Conseil said.
“No,” Ned replied. “That one had lost its tail. This one is complete.”
“That proves nothing,” I answered. “These creatures can regrow their lost arms and tails. After seven years, Bouguer’s squid could easily have grown a new tail.”
By then, more giant squid appeared near the observation windows.
I counted seven.
They followed the Nautilus like a strange underwater army.
I could hear their hard beaks scraping against the iron hull.
I continued my drawing.
The creatures moved with such control that they seemed almost motionless.
Suddenly, the Nautilus stopped.
The entire submarine shook violently.
“Have we hit something?” I asked.
“In any case,” Ned replied, “we should soon be free, because we are still floating.”
The Nautilus was indeed floating, but it no longer moved.
A minute passed.
Then Captain Nemo entered the salon with his lieutenant.
I had not seen him for a long time.
He looked tired and troubled.
Without greeting us or saying a word, he walked toward the observation panel, examined the squid outside, and quietly spoke to his lieutenant.
The officer immediately left.
Soon afterward, the panels were closed and the lights came on.
I approached Captain Nemo.
“A fascinating group of squid, Captain,” I said.
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Naturalist,” he replied. “And now we are going to fight them—man against beast.”
I stared at him.
I thought I had misunderstood.
“Man against beast?” I repeated.
“Yes. The propeller has stopped. I believe the hard beak of one of these creatures has become trapped in the blades. That is what prevents us from moving.”
“What will you do?”
“We will rise to the surface and destroy these creatures.”
“That will be extremely dangerous.”
“Yes. Our electric weapons are useless against their soft bodies because they cannot create enough resistance to activate properly.”
“But we can fight them with axes.”
“And with harpoons,” Ned Land said. “If you allow me to help.”
“I accept your assistance, Master Land.”
“We will come with you,” I said.
Following Captain Nemo, we moved toward the central staircase.
There, about ten sailors stood ready with boarding axes.
Conseil and I took axes as well.
Ned Land carried his harpoon.
The Nautilus rose toward the surface.
One sailor climbed to the top of the ladder and began unscrewing the outer panels.
But the moment the bolts were loosened, the hatch was violently pulled upward.
A giant squid’s arm had attached itself to the opening with its powerful suckers.
Immediately, one enormous tentacle slid inside like a snake.
Then another twenty appeared above the opening.
Captain Nemo raised his axe and struck.
The massive tentacle was cut in half and fell down the ladder, still twisting.
As we pushed forward to reach the platform, two more arms suddenly swept through the air.
They wrapped around the sailor standing in front of Captain Nemo and lifted him away with terrifying strength.
Captain Nemo cried out and rushed forward.
We followed him.
The Giant Squid’s Attack
What a terrifying sight!
The unfortunate sailor was trapped by the creature’s tentacle, covered completely by rows of powerful suction cups.
He hung in the air, helpless, as the giant arm swung him around.
His throat made a choking sound.
He struggled and cried:
“Help! Help!”
Those words were spoken in French.
The sound shocked me.
There was another Frenchman aboard this ship—perhaps several.
That desperate cry stayed with me forever.
The man was doomed.
Who could save him from such terrible pressure?
But Captain Nemo charged forward.
With one powerful swing of his axe, he cut through one of the squid’s arms.
At the same time, his lieutenant fought desperately against the other creatures climbing over the sides of the Nautilus.
The crew attacked with their axes.
Ned Land, Conseil, and I buried our weapons into the enormous bodies around us.
A strong smell like musk filled the air.
The scene was horrifying.
For a moment, I believed the trapped sailor might be torn free.
Seven of the squid’s eight arms had already been cut away.
Only one remained, twisting wildly in the air while holding the helpless man like a feather.
Just as Captain Nemo and his lieutenant rushed toward it, the creature released a cloud of black liquid.
Everything disappeared into darkness.
We were blinded.
When the black cloud finally cleared, the giant squid was gone.
And so was the unfortunate sailor.
Ten or twelve more squid now covered the platform and the sides of the Nautilus.
We were thrown into the middle of a nightmare.
Their slimy tentacles twisted around us among waves of blood and ink.
It seemed as though new arms kept appearing like the heads of the mythical Hydra.
Ned Land’s harpoon struck again and again, often hitting the creatures’ huge eyes.
But suddenly, one enormous squid knocked him down with its powerful tentacles.
My heart raced with fear.
The creature opened its terrible beak above Ned Land.
The Canadian was about to be cut in half.
I rushed toward him.
But Captain Nemo reached him first.
His axe struck between the giant jaws.
The Canadian was saved.
As soon as he stood up, Ned drove his harpoon deep into the squid’s three hearts.
“I owed you this revenge,” Captain Nemo said to him.
Ned bowed silently.
The battle had lasted fifteen minutes.
At last, the wounded and defeated creatures retreated.
They disappeared beneath the waves.
Captain Nemo stood covered in blood, almost exhausted.
He stared at the ocean that had swallowed one of his men.
Slowly, tears filled his eyes.