“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 offense to master,” he replied quietly; “if this is not Bouguer’s cuttle-fish, 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 marvelous. It was an immense cuttle-fish, 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 mollusk! Its spindle-like body formed a fleshy mass that might weigh 4,000 to 5,000 lbs.; the varying color changing with great rapidity, according to the irritation of the animal, passed successively from livid gray to reddish-brown. What irritated this mollusk? 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 vigor in their movements! And they possess three hearts! Chance had brought us in presence of this cuttle-fish, 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 redintegration; and, in seven years, the tail of Bouguer’s cuttle-fish 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 toward 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 jaw of one of the cuttle-fish 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 toward 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 ladder-step, 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 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.