by Marie Sexton
Then the Nautilus drew near the beaches of Africa, where the sea is considerably deeper. There, through the open panels and in a midwater of crystal clarity, our ship enabled us to study wonderful bushes of shining coral and huge chunks of rock wrapped in splendid green furs of algae and focus. What an indescribable sight, and what a variety of settings and scenery where these reefs and volcanic islands levelled off by the Libyan coast. But soon the Nautilus hugged the eastern shore where these tree forms appeared in all their glory. This was off the coast of Tihama, and there such zoophyte displays not only flourished below sea level but they also fashioned picturesque networks that unreeled as high as ten fathoms above it—the latter were more whimsical but less colourful than the former, which kept their bloom thanks to the moist vitality of the waters.
How many delightful hours I spent in this way at the lounge window. How many new specimens of underwater flora and fauna I marvelled at beneath the light of our electric beacon. Even the continued absence of my lover from my bed could not completely blot out my wonder. I missed him terribly, but outside of the ship was a dream come true. The opportunity of a lifetime. I marvelled at some of the most beautiful things I’d ever laid eyes on. Mushroom-shaped fungus coral, some slate-coloured sea anemone including the species Thalassianthus aster among others, organ-pipe coral arranged like flutes and just begging for a puff from the god Pan, shells unique to this sea that dwell in madreporic cavities and whose bases are twisted into squat spirals, and finally a thousand samples of a polypary I hadn’t observed until then—the common sponge. I was enamoured.
On February 9 the Nautilus cruised in the widest part of the Red Sea, measuring one-hundred and ninety miles straight across from Suakin on the west coast to Qunfidha on the east coast.
At noon that day after our position fix, Captain Nemo climbed onto the platform, where I happened to be. Ned’s continued avoidance of me was a dark spot in an otherwise bright venture, and I vowed for my lover’s sake not to let the captain go below again without at least sounding him out on his future plans. As soon as he saw me, he came over, graciously offered me a cigar, and said to me, “Well, Professor, are you pleased with this Red Sea? Have you seen enough of its hidden wonders, its fish and zoophytes, its gardens of sponges and forests of coral? Have you glimpsed the towns built on its shores?”
“Yes, Captain Nemo,” I replied, “and the Nautilus is wonderfully suited to this whole survey. Ah, it’s a clever boat.”
“Yes, sir, clever, daring, and invulnerable. It fears neither the Red Sea’s dreadful storms nor its currents and reefs. Unfortunately, I can’t take you through that Suez Canal, but the day after tomorrow, you’ll be able to see the long jetties of Port Said when we’re in the Mediterranean.”
“In the Mediterranean?” I exclaimed.
“Yes, Professor. Does that amaze you?”
“What amazes me is the thought of how hideously fast the Nautilus will need to go, if it’s to double the Cape of Good Hope, circle around Africa, and lie in the open Mediterranean by the day after tomorrow.”
“And who says it will circle Africa, Professor? What’s this talk about doubling the Cape of Good Hope?”
“But unless the Nautilus navigates on dry land and crosses over the isthmus—”
“Or under it, Professor Aronnax.”
“Under it?”
“Surely,” Captain Nemo replied serenely. “Under that tongue of land, nature long ago made what man today is making on its surface.”
“What. There’s a passageway?”
“Yes, an underground passageway that I’ve named the Arabian Tunnel. It starts below Suez and leads to the Bay of Pelusium. And soon, Professor, I promise you, you also will pass through it.”
Chapter Five
Arabian Tunnel
I had been reluctant to face my companions, afraid of what Ned would say to me or, even worse, that he would reject me. But I could wait no longer. The same day, I tracked them down in their cabin. My hand shook as I knocked.
Conseil smiled at me when he admitted me to their room, pleasant as he always was. I turned to Ned with my heart in my throat. I had feared he would look at me now only with anger, or hatred, but I saw immediately that my fears were unfounded. He was still upset, I could tell, but when he looked at me, I saw regret and heartache. I saw my own fears and insecurities mirrored back at me. He wanted to heal this breach between us as much as I, yet I feared neither of us had changed our minds enough to lay the matter to rest.
I took a deep breath and reported to Conseil and Ned Land that part of the foregoing conversation directly concerning them. When I told them we would be lying in Mediterranean waters within two days, Conseil clapped his hands, but my lover, if indeed he could still be called that, merely shrugged his shoulders.
“An underwater tunnel,” he exclaimed. “A connection between two seas. Who ever heard of such malarkey.”
His words stung. I had come here to make peace, and yet I could see that Ned found no joy in the news I brought. Not only that, but I couldn’t argue with him without making it seem that I was taking Captain Nemo’s side over his. What was I to say?
“Ned, my friend,” Conseil replied, coming to my aid as he always did, “had you ever heard of the Nautilus? No, yet here it is. So don’t shrug your shoulders so blithely, and don’t discount something with the feeble excuse that you’ve never heard of it.”
“We’ll soon see,” Ned Land shot back, shaking his head. “After all, I’d like nothing better than to believe in your captain’s little passageway, and may Heaven grant it really does take us to the Mediterranean.”
He turned away, and even though we were in his cabin, he left. He walked out without another word.
I fought back my desire to cry. Nothing between us had changed. I wanted to go after him, but I couldn’t.
He had rejected me. It made me angry, but more than anything, it made me feel defeated. It was unfair. I hadn’t asked to be taken on this venture any more than he had, yet it seemed my lifelong passion for the sea and all that it held had cost me the man I loved.
I retired to my stateroom, but couldn’t stand to stay there long. It felt so large and empty. I found myself back on the platform. The Nautilus was afloat on the surface of the sea and drawing nearer to the Arab coast. I spotted Jidda, an important financial centre for Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and the East Indies. I could distinguish with reasonable clarity the overall effect of its buildings, the ships made fast along its wharves, and those bigger vessels whose draught of water required them to drop anchor at the port’s offshore mooring. The sun, fairly low on the horizon, struck full force on the houses in this town, accenting their whiteness. Outside the city limits, some wood or reed huts indicated the quarter where the Bedouins lived.
Soon Jidda faded into the shadows of evening, and the Nautilus went back beneath the mildly phosphorescent waters.
That night, I woke to the soft click of my stateroom door opening and somebody stepping through. It could only be Ned.
He didn’t raise the lights, and I lay silently as he crossed the room to my bed. He was barely more than a shadow against the darkness of the room. My heart pounded. I found myself fighting tears. He sat next to me on the bed and took my hand in his.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said.
I had to force my reply past a lump in my throat. “I never wanted to fight at all.”
He was silent for a moment, stroking the back of my hand. “I’m not suited for this life. I see how happy you are here, and I wish I could be happy too.”
“Can’t you? Am I not enough?”
“Please Professor, don’t make it sound like that. You’re everything to me.”
“But?”
“But this world beneath the sea doesn’t bring me joy the way it does you. You look around, and you see your life’s dream. I look around, and I see a prison. Iron walls. Nothing more.”
“I fear you will grow to hate me.”
“No.
At times, I can’t help but resent you. But hatred? Never.”
“What would you have me do, Ned? Lock myself away? Forsake every benefit and venture the Nautilus has to offer me?”
He sighed, and I heard so much sadness in that small sound. “No, Professor. I know your happiness shouldn’t feel like such an affront to me. I know it’s selfish of me to want you to be as miserable as I am.”
“I have been miserable,” I told him. “These last few days, at least.”
He laughed, although it was a sad sound. “You only say that to appease me.”
“No Ned. I’ve missed you.”
He clutched my hand harder. “I’ve missed you as well. I owe you a hundred apologies.
I know I’ve been dreadful—”
“I forgive you.”
“Don’t be too quick to say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t promise it won’t happen again. It’s always been this way. I withdraw, and I get surly. I know it’s childish, but I’ve learned it’s better to isolate myself than to let my emotions get the better of me. I might say something I don’t even mean that you’d never forgive me for.”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I stayed silent.
“I love you, Professor. Never doubt that. If it weren’t for you, I would have thrown myself off the Nautilus long ago. I would have taken my chances with the sea. But when I think of leaving you…”
He choked, and I realised why he’d left the lights off. He didn’t want me to see his tears.
I sat up in bed so I could pull him close. I was surprised at the way he trembled. “Ned, my love, we will escape this boat someday. I promise. And more importantly, I promise that when that day comes, I will be at your side, no matter what.”
“And until then, I will continue to make your time here hell—”
“No! More complicated, maybe, but vastly more enjoyable too.”
He chuckled again, and if it still wasn’t his normal boisterous laughter, it at least didn’t sound so full of heartache. “I don’t know how to be the man you deserve.”
“My foolish Ned, you are ten times the man I deserve.”
I didn’t wait for him to argue. I pulled him to me and kissed him. Still, he was hesitant.
He was unsure. I’d never seen him be anything other than strong and confident. I undressed him and held him so we were skin to skin. His hands shook. I could taste the salt of his tears on my lips.
I wanted to give him his confidence back, but how to do it?
“Tell me what to do,” I said.
“Professor, you have ever been mine,” he whispered. “Now let me be yours.”
Two sentences, and yet I heard so much in his voice. His sorrow for the rift that had separated us. His distress that he had hurt me. His uncertainty that he was forgiven. More than anything, his desperation to make things right. My Ned, who was always so strong, who could face down any beast he saw without flinching, was actually afraid. He could not bear to lose me.
This knowledge struck me as little in my life had ever done. He loved me. He needed me. He was lost and in pain, and I was the one who could change it.
I pulled my lover close and kissed him, as gently as I was able. I caressed him—his thick, muscular arms and his broad chest. I whispered in his ear of the things to come, of the life we would have together when this journey was over. It didn’t matter if he withdrew again. It didn’t matter if our shared imprisonment brought me joy and him frustration. This journey was temporary, but what we had would be forever. Nothing could separate us. Not Captain Nemo. Not the Nautilus.
At last, his strong legs wrapped around my hips. “Tell me you love me,” he begged.
“Forever,” I promised.
He pulled me down to kiss him again, whispering against my lips, “Please, Professor. I need this. I need you.”
We’d made love so many times, but never like this. Never with my heart so full of my love. Never with such a lump in my throat and tears stinging behind my eyes.
I greased my fingers and felt between his muscular buttocks for his entrance. He was tight, his muscles rigidly blocking my entrance, but when I touched him, he sighed. He threw his head back against the pillow, and I massaged him, kissing his neck as I did. I worked my fingers in a slow circle. My heart soared at the way he arched toward me, at the whimpers that fell from his lips, at the way he softened under my caress until at last, I slid my finger inside.
His body was so hot, his channel so tight around my fingers. I ducked my head to suck at his nipple, pushing deeper as I did.
So many nights I’d lain beneath his weight, overcome by lust, unable to do anything more than accept the pleasure he gave, but now it was my turn. My turn to make him squirm and writhe as I teased him with my fingers and my lips and my tongue. My turn to steal his breath, to swallow his moans, to make him beg. And beg he did.
“Please,” he gasped at last as he bucked against my hand. “Oh God, please!”
In truth, I was as desperate for it as he. I held my breath as I greased my length and then, for the first time ever, I took him as he had so often taken me. I pushed into him. His passage was tight and hot around my cock. No other lover had ever fit me so well, or felt so good.
I bent down again to kiss him as I pushed in the rest of the way. He arched his back, pushing his hips up to meet me.
“I am yours, Professor,” he said. “And you are mine.”
It started out slow and gentle, Ned trembling in my arms, but our desperation soon overtook us. There was an urgency between us I’d never felt before. I found myself thrusting faster and harder. He bucked against me and his cries grew louder and more insistent. More demanding.
Yes, it was my turn. Not just to give pleasure, or to reassure, but to show him that I could be as strong as he, when it was required. To prove I could be what he needed me to be.
I shafted him until he was panting. Until he was screaming. Until, it seemed possible, he no longer knew his name.
When it was over, we lay together, a sweaty tangle of limbs as our heartbeats slowed to normal. “Professory, I’m so sor—”
“Don’t apologise, Ned. Just tell me again that you love me.”
“You know I do.”
Yes, I did, but how many more times would our love be strained by this journey under the seas?
I didn’t want to think about it. Not at that moment. I snuggled into the comfortable warmth of his arms. I tangled my fingers in the coarse hair of his chest and breathed in his familiar scent.
Whatever happened, we would survive. Our love was stronger than this imprisonment.
Stronger than the Nautilus. Stronger than the sea.
It was my last thought as I drifted to sleep.
The next day, February 10, several ships appeared, running on our opposite tack. The Nautilus resumed its underwater navigating, but at the moment of our noon sights, the sea was deserted and the ship rose again to its waterline.
With Ned and Conseil, I went to sit on the platform. The coast to the east looked like a slightly blurred mass in a damp fog.
Leaning against the sides of the skiff, we were chatting idly, doing little more than happily reveling in our renewed surety of each other, when Ned Land stretched his hand towards a point in the water, saying to me, “See anything out there, Professor?”
“No, Ned,” I replied, “but you know I don’t have your eyes.”
“Take a good look,” Ned went on. “There, ahead to starboard, almost level with the beacon. Don’t you see a mass that seems to be moving around?”
“Right,” I said after observing carefully, “I can make out something like a long, blackish object on the surface of the water.”
“A second Nautilus?” Conseil said.
“No,” the Canadian replied, “unless I’m badly mistaken, that’s some marine animal.”
“Are there whales in the Red Sea?” Conseil asked.
“Yes, my boy,” I replied, “they
’re sometimes found here.”
“That’s no whale,” continued Ned Land, whose eyes never strayed from the object they had sighted. “We’re old chums, whales and I, and I couldn’t mistake their little ways.”
“Let’s wait and see,” Conseil said. “The Nautilus is heading that direction, and we’ll soon know what we’re in for.”
In fact, that blackish object was soon only a mile away from us. It looked like a huge reef stranded in midocean. What was it? I still couldn’t make up my mind.
“Oh, it’s moving off. It’s diving.” Ned Land exclaimed. “Damnation. What can that animal be? It doesn’t have a forked tail like baleen whales or sperm whales, and its fins look like sawed-off limbs.”
“But in that case—” I put in.
“Good lord,” the Canadian went on, “it’s rolled over on its back, and it’s raising its breasts in the air.”
“It’s a siren,” Conseil exclaimed. “With all due respect to master, it’s an actual mermaid.”
That word ‘siren’ put me back on track, and I realised that the animal belonged to the order Sirenia, marine creatures that legends have turned into mermaids, half woman, half fish.
“No,” I told Conseil, “that’s no mermaid, it’s an unusual creature of which only a few specimens are left in the Red Sea. That’s a dugong.”
“Order Sirenia, group Pisciforma, subclass Monodelphia, class Mammalia, branch Vertebrata,” Conseil replied.
And when Conseil has spoken, there’s nothing else to be said.
Meanwhile Ned Land kept staring. His eyes were gleaming with desire at the sight of that animal. His hands were ready to hurl a harpoon. You would have thought he was waiting for the right moment to jump overboard and attack the creature in its own element.
“Oh, sir,” he told me in a voice trembling with excitement, “I’ve never killed anything like that.”
His whole being was concentrated in this last word.
Just then Captain Nemo appeared on the platform. He spotted the dugong. He understood the Canadian’s frame of mind and addressed him directly, “If you held a harpoon, Mr Land, wouldn’t your hands be itching to put it to work?”
