#the reckoning darwin

[allseeingportrait]

While working on a commission for a friend I remembered my Wretched Husband existed and had to draw him. And then I went way more into it than intended and had to draw skeletons and get painterly with it. These are the things I do for this horrid failboy

The Reckoning and the bastard from it both courtesy of @year2000electronics

[year2000electronics]

long time no text post

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 11

To ditch career day... or to not ditch career day...

CW: Distressed infant

Since Tiana cannot speak her thoughts will often be in brackets

While Eliza and Bob have taken infant leave from their jobs, there is no such option for the teens. Fergus and Onyx pop their heads into the nursery where Bob is still rocking a sleeping Tiana and kiss her goodbye for the day. Then school awaits!

It looks like the Pancakes may have missed the outfit memo for today, oops. While Onyx heads off to find some friends Fergus tries to hastily finish the homework he neglected to finish. Unfortunately his friends are not much help this morning.

Anya: I look fabulous, thank you watcher

Artemisia: Are you staring at my best bracelet friend

Darwin: What? No. I was looking for the bus

Artemisia: Looking for the bus while we’re at school, unlikely

Atlas: I don’t think he meant anything by it

Fergus: Hold up- what did you guys get for 13?

Artemisia: Look dude, just keep your eyes to yourself

Darwin: Sure, and you can keep your venom to yourself

Outside the main building Onyx and Paola have some time relaxing.

Onyx: Aim for the centre

Paola: Of course I’m aiming for the centre dummy

Zhafira: Onyx! Hey! Look who caught the bus again successfully!

Zhafira approaches the pair beaming happily.

Onyx: Congrats. Did you hear they’re shuffling classes today

Zhafira looks downcast while Onyx explains the younger and older students will be having combined classes for the morning. They'll be with some of their friends but not Zhafira who seems upset at having to get to know even more new people.

As this is happening Mrs Tinker and Mrs Hensley come over and try give Paola some tips for successful throwing. Unfortunately they have contrasting opinions and in the end the teens decide the safest option is just to pretend they’ve gotten bored and head inside.

Onyx takes a quick swim before class and still manages to get to the room before the teacher begins the lesson.

Mrs T: Today we will be buddying up. Older students please join a younger student and we will begin designing a business for this scenario

Onyx: Mrs T can’t I just buddy up with Amie since she’s beside me

Mrs T: Sorry Onyx but Mr A wants to foster whole school cooperation, that's why we're having staggered classes this morning

Carson: I wish William had been put in here

Darwin: Don’t worry, we’ll see him at lunch

Carson: And I wish some outfits didn’t make my glasses vanish, it's like I've been dressed by a computer

After class wraps up Fergus goes to talk with Artemisia.

Fergus: I’m excited to see what we’ll learn this afternoon

Artemisia: *sighs* Don’t be too excited, it’s career day

Fergus: You’re not punking me, we only just started high school. There is no career day

Artemisia: I’m serious. I’m also thinking of skipping out on it

Fergus: We can do that?

Artemisia: I reckon I can, question is do you have the guts to

Fergus: Of course I do. Onyx was still feeling ill this morning so we can use that excuse to head home

Artemisia: May the best person not be caught

Back home Eliza is carrying Tiana when the infant fusses to be put down.

Eliza: Okay then, down we go

Tiana: *coos* (I coo now mother) *coos louder*

Eliza: Was that a coo? Was that a coo? I think it was *claps*

Tiana smiles and sticks her fingers in her mouth. Mother is pleased, she must be doing well. Even though mother keeps saying the word go, Tiana is happy they haven't seemed to leave the house.

Eliza is busy feeding Tiana when Fergus walks through the room.

Eliza: Hold on! What are you doing home?

Fergus: Umm, Onyx’s head got bad again so we came home so they could get a nap

Fergus walks over to the suckling infant and holds her hand for a bit. Tiana doesn't seem to grip back yet but she's looking at him curiously.

Eliza: You came home so Onyx could nap? I don’t think so. Onyx is capable of napping by themselves

Fergus: Fine, it was career day! I don’t need to worry about that yet. I’ll do extra homework tonight I promise

Eliza burps Tiana who spits up down her back.

Eliza: Ugh. it's okay honey, we can clean that up

Fergus: Want me to grab a cloth

Eliza: Please. Now I do not want you skipping school again, but since you’re here you can walk Strawberry since you're keen to help Onyx

Fergus: But I want to- *sighs* yes mother

The house is left quiet for Onyx’s nap while Bob takes Ginger for a run and Fergus takes Strawberry for a walk.

Eliza: Come on my snuggly sleeper. You get comfy back there and you can nap while mother does her run

Tiana: *coos questioningly* (wait, no, not outside! I don't want to leave) *cries* (I want to stay with mother)

Eliza: It's okay Tiana, mother is right here with you. We're just going to check out the neighbourhood huh. You'll be okay

Eliza jogs off and keeps talking to Tiana. Eventually the regular bouncing of the back carrier and the softness of Eliza's voice lull Tiana to sleep. Eliza is delighted to hear a quiet snuffling snore at her back as she runs.

Later that day...

Fergus: Dad?

Bob: Yes

Fergus: Umm, Tiana is crying. Don’t you think you should go give her a nap rather than carry her on your back

Bob: But- she’s learning with me though

Eliza: Fergus is right Bob, she’s exhausted. Better giver her to me

Bob: But I want to spend time with her

Eliza: And so you can, when she’s awake. You know she had a hard night, she needs to catch up on sleep still

Bob: *sighs* fine. Here Tiana honey, go with your mother *whispers* I'll teach you how to cook later though

Eliza carries a grumpy over tired infant into the nursery and sits down with her in the rocking chair.

Eliza: There there Tiana, it’s okay, you just go to sleep

Tiana: *coos* (mother came back with me, I not left behind) *yawns*

Eliza: It's okay my sleepy girl, mother is right here and daddy is just down the hall. You can sleep, I'll keep you safe

Tiana does feel very tired and so she yawns and falls asleep in Eliza’s arms. It may not be winning a Nobel Prize but Eliza feels pretty proud of finding time in her schedule to snuggle with her daughter.

The teens decided to do their homework at their own desks tonight! Fergus was working away on some science as he has a class trip to the aquarium tomorrow. Onyx meanwhile did their best to study for their exams. After Onyx felt like they could confidently say they were no longer sick they went and did some cheer practice. Later in the evening Tiana woke up.

After a diaper change Eliza gets Tiana into a clean night onesie and goes in search of Bob.

Bob: Thank you for the suggestion. She’s given us so much joy already

Kayleigh: No problem at all I- oh is this her?

Eliza: *grinning* Kayleigh may I introduce our youngest? This is Tiana

Kayleigh: Oh she is precious

Bob: Come to daddy, did you have a nice nap

Eliza: She’s still quite tired, I think she’ll need a proper sleep after her bottle

Bob: We can do that

Kayleigh: I best get going, see you all later

Bob: Can you say bye bye to Kayleigh

Tiana: *coos and snuggles into shoulder* (daddy is here, mother found him for me)

Bob: *chuckles* okay, food time then

Bob is delighted to see Tiana has a healthy appetite. He prepares himself to be spat on but to his surprise only gas comes out. Snuggling Tiana close he carries her down the hall and places her in her crib. He softly tells her another tall tale and the exhausted infant falls asleep happy with the sounds of fellow sims.

Previous ... Next

[creature-wizard]

RE: [I think a question people should ask themselves when exploring spirituality and mysticism more is, "is this just making hyperindividualism, AKA being a totally self-centered asshole, look cool and deep?"]

Please elaborate?

Self-centered assholes who like to reckon themselves spiritual (or would like to play out the role of a great spiritual leader) will inevitably find ways to spin their selfishness as great spiritual enlightenment. Neville Goddard, for example, basically packaged hyperindividualism under capitalism into a form of mystical practice he called the Law of Assumption. Like he didn't totally invent this; the Law of Assumption is basically a New Thought redux, but basically it's all American capitalist bullshit presented as spiritual enlightenment. He even makes up all this stuff about it supposedly being part of Kabbalah and Jesus's disciples actually being secret LoA practitioners.

Meanwhile in witchcraft communities there's always been various people who try to spin some kinda social Darwinism as the way to be a witch. They basically loathe the idea of behaving in pro-social, community-minded ways and justify it with rhetoric about every true witch finding their own way, relying on their own discernment, relying on their own power, etc. You have people who think that if they can magically summon oodles of money, they have no obligation to share it with anyone, because if other people aren't powerful enough to summon their own money, that's their problem. I wrote a bit more about toxic individualism in witchcraft over here.

Oh, and apparently, Anton LaVey was strongly inspired by Ayn Rand, and went on record saying "I give people Ayn Rand, with trappings." Ayn Rand, of course, was the epitome of capitalist ghoulishness and the kind of hyperindividualism it fosters.

So yeah, people really need to be more aware that people will really just spiritualize the most awful, self-centered attitudes and spin it as profound enlightenment. This is why it's important to look past the awe-inspiring prose and ask yourself "what is it actually saying about humanity, the world, and my relationship to it?"

[lordshroom]

I'm studying for my ecology exam and got distracted.

So natural selection increases favorable traits and decreases unfavorable traits in a population. Darwin and his birds. Survival of the fittest, yada yada.

In my notes, it's described as "favored individuals pass down their good genes to the next generation". And, being silly, thought of "Good Genes" from 2003.

And the two wolves inside me (the bio nerd and the English nerd) did a team-up, and now I'm must share their findings.

Before, "Good Genes" was just a fun, alliterative title that foreshadowed Donnie's transformation. But things get interesting when we put a "survival of the fittest" spin on the concept.

In any typical environment, an organism with a superb offensive and a strong defense, like monster Donnie, would be favored by natural selection. Hell, his brothers stand no chance against Donnie without the technology Leatherhead/ EPF provides. He's a force to be reckoned with, so much so that Bishop considers putting Donnie down when he escapes. Basically, this version of Donnie is an organism that can survive almost anything thrown at it.

One of my few complaints about these episodes was that Donnie's monster design could be used for any one of his brothers; it wasn't special to him. Maybe that's the point. Donnie is turned into a monster fit for violence and destruction, something so unDonnie that it fails to even resemble him. These "good genes" suck anything that made Donnie, Donnie out in favor of a monster.

Maybe the real good genes were his brother's perseverance and resolve to help Donnie at any cost. The turtles are strong, not because they're physically the strongest, but because they're a unit, a family. They're strongest when they combine their unique talents and work as one mind. Perhaps the good genes were the family we made along the way.

[winterandwords]

Happy Storyteller Saturday! It's Valentine's Day, or a similarly romantic occasion, how do your characters celebrate? (I'd love to hear about the unattached characters just as much as the ones in relationships.)

Thanks for the ask 💜

I can't imagine any of my characters actually celebrating valentine's day. The ones in established relationships definitely aren't valentine's day kinds of people. Project Darwin might go that way later because Tobie is a hopeless romantic, but I'm not at that point in the story yet.

As for the unattached ones, I reckon Aria (who is aro-ace) from Name From Nowhere would get a kick out of buying ridiculously packaged Romance Chocolate on sale the next day and eating it while she plans a heist.

[percervall]

i love ur thigh and 🍑 lists but have an important question, which players are packing and would be topping a 🍆 list do ya reckon?

asking the important questions today, I like it

By now I hope you know this contains photographic evidence, watch at your own discretion

How can I make this list and not include Leon?

mentally, I'm still here

Darwin also does, 100% even if this angle might not show it

Joe Gomez anyone? 👀

Trent Alexander-Arnold, although I am pretty sure part of that are his shin pads or something

Have this video of Dusan Valhovic as well. I am dead 🫠 such a whore

You're gonna have to take my word for this because I am not going to be send to horny jail for showing the images that do prove my claim. Know that they're out there and I have to live with the fact I have seen this man's 🍆

[rockislandadultreads]

Read-Alike Friday: Bitch by Lucy Cooke

Bitch by Lucy Cooke

Studying zoology made Lucy Cooke feel like a sad freak. Not because she loved spiders or would root around in animal feces: all her friends shared the same curious kinks. The problem was her sex. Being female meant she was, by nature, a loser.

Since Charles Darwin, evolutionary biologists have been convinced that the males of the animal kingdom are the interesting ones - dominating and promiscuous, while females are dull, passive, and devoted.

In Bitch, Cooke tells a new story. Whether investigating same-sex female albatross couples that raise chicks, murderous mother meerkats, or the titanic battle of the sexes waged by ducks, Cooke shows us a new evolutionary biology, one where females can be as dynamic as any male. This isn‘t your grandfather’s evolutionary biology. It’s more inclusive, truer to life, and, simply, more fun.

Eve by Cat Bohannon

How did the female body drive 200 million years of human evolution

Why do women live longer than men?

Why are women more likely to get Alzheimer’s?

Why do girls score better at every academic subject than boys until puberty, when suddenly their scores plummet?

Is sexism useful for evolution?

And why, seriously why, do women have to sweat through our sheets every night when we hit menopause?

These questions are producing some truly exciting science – and in Eve, with boundless curiosity and sharp wit, Cat Bohannon covers the past 200 million years to explain the specific science behind the development of the female sex: “We need a kind of user's manual for the female mammal. A no-nonsense, hard-hitting, seriously researched (but readable) account of what we are. How female bodies evolved, how they work, what it really means to biologically be a woman. Something that would rewrite the story of womanhood. This book is that story. We have to put the female body in the picture. If we don't, it's not just feminism that's compromised. Modern medicine, neurobiology, paleoanthropology, even evolutionary biology all take a hit when we ignore the fact that half of us have breasts. So it's time we talk about breasts. Breasts, and blood, and fat, and vaginas, and wombs—all of it. How they came to be and how we live with them now, no matter how weird or hilarious the truth is.”

Eve is not only a sweeping revision of human history, it’s an urgent and necessary corrective for a world that has focused primarily on the male body for far too long. Picking up where Sapiens left off, Eve will completely change what you think you know about evolution and why Homo sapiens has become such a successful and dominant species.

The Exceptions by Kate Zernike

In 1963, a female student was attending a lecture given by Nobel Prize winner James Watson, then tenured at Harvard. At nineteen, she was struggling to define her future. She had given herself just ten years to fulfill her professional ambitions before starting the family she was expected to have. For women at that time, a future on the usual path of academic science was unimaginable—but during that lecture, young Nancy Hopkins fell in love with the promise of genetics. Confidently believing science to be a pure meritocracy, she embarked on a career.

In 1999, Hopkins, now a noted molecular geneticist and cancer researcher at MIT, divorced and childless, found herself underpaid and denied the credit and resources given to men of lesser rank. Galvanized by the flagrant favoritism, Hopkins led a group of sixteen women on the faculty in a campaign that prompted MIT to make the historic admission that it had long discriminated against its female scientists. The sixteen women were a formidable group: their work has advanced our understanding of everything from cancer to geology, from fossil fuels to the inner workings of the human brain. And their work to highlight what they called “21st-century discrimination”—a subtle, stubborn, often unconscious bias—set off a national reckoning with the pervasive sexism in science.

Brave the Wild River by Melissa L. Sevigny

In the summer of 1938, botanists Elzada Clover and Lois Jotter set off down the Colorado River, accompanied by an ambitious expedition leader and three amateur boatmen. With its churning rapids, sheer cliffs, and boat-shattering boulders, the Colorado was famed as the most dangerous river in the world. But for Clover and Jotter, it held a tantalizing appeal: no one had surveyed the Grand Canyon’s plants, and they were determined to be the first.

Through the vibrant letters and diaries of the two women, science journalist Melissa L. Sevigny traces their forty-three-day journey, during which they ran rapids, chased a runaway boat, and turned their harshest critic into an ally. Their story is a spellbinding adventure of two women who risked their lives to make an unprecedented botanical survey of a little-known corner of the American West at a time when human influences had begun to change it forever.

[grompf3]

Article dans Le Point : « Science » célèbre les lanceurs d’alerte ayant fait tomber Didier Raoult

Vous avez lu cet article ?

C'est très bien, je trouve. Un média généraliste français se fait l'écho de l'article publié dans la prestigieuse revue Science qui nous présente quelques uns des lanceurs d'alerte ayant dénoncé les mauvaises pratiques de Didier Raoult :

The reckoning

Didier Raoult and his institute found fame during the pandemic. Then, a group of dogged critics exposed major ethical failings

On y trouve des portrait de Victor Garcia, d'Elisabeth Bik, de Lonni Besançon, de Mathieu Molinard, et de Frabrice Frank, ainsi que des interventions de Karine Lacombe.

On raconte le parcours du combattant de ces personnes, découvrant des pratiques mensongères et contraires à l'éthique la plus élémentaire, dans le contexte d'une crise sanitaire mondiale, et qui ont subi insultes et menaces pour avoir juste dit la vérité.

Et on y insiste sur le fait que ces gens, par civisme, par sens du devoir, ont fait le job que les autorités concernées n'ont pas fait. Ce que l'on retrouve dans le compte rendu de l'article dans Le Point :

"Concrètement, le travail que nous avons fait aurait dû être celui du CNRS, de l'Inserm, du gouvernement… Ce n'était pas notre boulot, nous n'avons pas été protégés, et nous avons dû tout gérer seuls."

C'est très bien.

Soulignons aussi que Le Point a déjà consacré quelques articles aux magouilles à large échelle commises par Didier Raoult et ses supporters.

Mais...

Didier Raoult a bénéficié pendant des années de tribunes dans Le Point. Et à peu près toutes les personnes sérieuses que vous consulterez vous confirmeront qu'il y racontait beaucoup de merde.

Raoult a notamment utilisé ses tribunes dans Le Point pour y diffuser de la désinformation sur le climat. On en avait d'ailleurs reparlé en début de pandémie.

Sur Darwin, toutes celles et ceux qui se sont penchés sur les propos de Raoult sont unanimes : c'est n'importe quoi.

Il aimait bien jouer à "arrêtez d'avoir peur" sur plein de sujets (pas que sur le climat... et ça datait donc de bien avant ces histoires de trottinette et de coronavirus).

Et puis ça j'aime bien. 2017 :

Didier Raoult : Halte à la gabegie scientifique !

Nos unités de recherche françaises sont évaluées tous les cinq ans par une structure nationale indépendante qui change de nom régulièrement ; elle s'appelle actuellement Haut Conseil de l'évaluation de la recherche et de l'enseignement supérieur (HCERES). Ces évaluations n'ont quasiment aucune utilité.

Ah...

C'est intéressant.

Hein que c'est intéressant ?

Elles sont inutiles ces inspections. Elles servent à rien. C'est du pognon gaspillé. Faudrait arrêter avec ça.

Bon.

Quelques mois plus tard, on découvrait ça :

On y découvrait déjà toute une série de dysfonctionnements, annonciateurs du scandale sanitaire que l'IHU de Marseille allait provoquer pendant la pandémie de Covid.

Quelques mois plus tard encore, en janvier 2018, l'INSERM et le CNRS lui retireront leur soutien.

Ah...

Et puis quand la pandémie de Covid a commencé, il a aussi eu droit à quelques coups de pub...

Alors oui, Le Point se sont rattrapés depuis. Et déjà en début de pandémie, il y avait eu des articles critiques sur la méthode Raoult.

Oui.

Mais j'aime bien ce dicton qui dit que le journalisme, ça ne consiste pas, face à une personne qui dit qu'il pleut et une autre qu'il dit qu'il fait beau, à donner alternativement la parole à l'un et à l'autre. Le journalisme c'est se lever du canapé, aller à la fenêtre et regarder dehors pour voir le temps qu'il fait.

Et les explications sur les graves problèmes méthodologiques, en s'adressant à un public généraliste, ça ne pesait pas lourd face aux commentaires sur le chercheur rebelle et disruptif qui dérange le sérail.

Et là, je parle de Le Point. Mais il y aurait beaucoup d'autres médias sur lesquels je pourrais écrire un billet de blog de ce style.

Donc certains ne vont peut-être même pas relayer l'excellent article publié par Science.

Alors je remercie Le Point de le faire. Je les remercie aussi pour, dans cette crise du coronavirus, s'être progressivement recentrés sur les faits, sur l'information.

Je répète cet extrait de leur article :

« Le travail que nous avons fait aurait dû être celui du CNRS, de l'Inserm, du gouvernement… »

Très juste donc.

Mais il faudrait que des leçons soient tirées. Et pas qu'au niveau du CNRS, de l'INSERM et du gouvernement. Le monde du journalisme doit aussi repenser son rapport à l'information, aux faits.

Allez, je vous remets le lien pour la route.

Et encore une fois, merci à Victor Garcia, Elisabeth Bik, Lonni Besançon, Mathieu Molinard, Frabrice Frank et Karine Lacombe.

Et merci à toutes celles et ceux qui ne sont pas cités dans l'article de Science et qui ont mouillé leur maillot et encaissé du harcèlement et du dénigrement depuis le début de la pandémie : Nathan Peiffer-Smadja, Mathieu Rebeaud, Guillaume Limousin, Alexandra Calmy, Dominique Costagliola, Damien Barraud, Jérôme Barrière, Christian Lehmann, Ari Kouts, Annick Chevillot, Samuel Alexander, etc, etc, etc, etc... J'en oublie. Et beaucoup.

Honte à celles et ceux qui s'en sont pris à vous. Honte à celles et ceux qui ont laissé faire quand leur job aurait été d'intervenir.

Merci pour le taff.

[boypussydilf]

for the letters ask meme M O and U. for fun. mou <- said like a cat with a silly voice

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHH CATBOY BLAAAAST *a ray of bright light disintegrates me into ash* *when it clears i have turned into a little cat*

m - name a character you’d like to have for a friend

So many…………. so many…….. i w GASP. I WANT TO HANG OUT WITH FINN MERTENS AND KOYUKI AZUMAYA AT THE SAME TIME. They would put me into life threatening dangerous situations but it would be okay because they can protect me from anything. they are trying to teach me self defense and it is NOT working i have poor reaction time and no muscles. we are also going clothes shopping and getting food. it would be great. genuinely i need to go think about what would happen if finn and koyuki got to hang out now they have. similar experiences. what if you were raised to Go Out And Fight ever since you were a little kid and also you were in some way fundamentally estranged from the common human experience. but also you were just so funny and silly and charming. anyway they’re my friends :)

o - pick a song at random. what character/ship does it remind you of

Alright playlist of nearly one thousand songs let’s see what shuffle brings me. Hmm. Shuffle brought me remains of the day from corpse bride which. Is. Much too specific. What that song reminds me of is corpse bride. Let’s try something else. OH. PORTUGAL - WALK THE MOON WHICH ISNT 100% LYRICALLY APPLICABLE BUT IT ALWAYS MAKES ME THINK OF A REALLY GOOD GRAVITY FALLS AMV I SAW SET TO IT… gives me psychic images of mabel & dipper. Ok let’s get one more song just for fun. oh i got fucking land of the dead by voltaire. isnt that the billy & mandy theme song. or whatever that show is called. anyway i only know that song exists because of my friend Darwin from Tumblr Ask Blog The Reckoning so. you guys heard of the reckoning? it’s good.

u - 3 favorite characters from 3 different fandoms and why they’re your favorites

i wonder if i can come up with all characters who r my favorites for anything other than Kin Reasons. because most of the time, it is Kin Reasons.

sgt frog: dororo. because ever since i was young i have been easily bewitched by sad pathetic loser men.

psychonauts: loboto- ok so like i didnt get the loboto hype at first when i watched the first psychonauts game i was like yeah hes… fine… i guess? hes barely fucking in that though? why do people care? and then iwatched rhombus of ruin and i. i am not immune to the Guy With A Sad Backstory effect. maybe iwould not call him my favorite psychonauts character if i had seen psychonauts more recently and had actually. Seen The Other Characters recently,. but in the period of time ive gone without directly looking at psychonauts at all my emotional response to caligosto loboto has grown exponentially, i am bewitched by his freak tendencies. God damnit i already said bewitched already. Oh well. You know what? Fine,. Let’s make it a running theme. Let’s go for a third

adventure time: BETTY. YOU GUYS KNOW WHY THE FUCK THE GUY WHO PUT SIMON AT THE TOP OF HIS LIST OF NAMES THE SECOND THE F&C TRAILER DROPPED LOVES BETTY GROF. But I would be obsessed with her either way, because ever since I was young i have been easily bewitched by chaotic unhinged in-need-of-professional-help women.

takes a bow. Thank you for coming everybody

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

20k Leagues under the sea, Jules Verne

chapter 18-20

CHAPTER XVIII VANIKORO

This terrible spectacle was the forerunner of the series of maritime catastrophes that the Nautilus was destined to meet with in its route. As long as it went through more frequented waters, we often saw the hulls of shipwrecked vessels that were rotting in the depths, and deeper down cannons, bullets, anchors, chains, and a thousand other iron materials eaten up by rust. However, on the 11th of December we sighted the Pomotou Islands, the old “dangerous group” of Bougainville, that extend over a space of 500 leagues at E.S.E. to W.N.W., from the Island Ducie to that of Lazareff. This group covers an area of 370 square leagues, and it is formed of sixty groups of islands, among which the Gambier group is remarkable, over which France exercises sway. These are coral islands, slowly raised, but continuous, created by the daily work of polypi. Then this new island will be joined later on to the neighboring groups, and a fifth continent will stretch from New Zealand and New Caledonia, and from thence to the Marquesas.

One day, when I was suggesting this theory to Captain Nemo, he replied coldly:

“The earth does not want new continents, but new men.”

Chance had conducted the Nautilus towards the Island of Clermont-Tonnere, one of the most curious of the group, that was discovered in 1822 by Captain Bell of the Minerva. I could study now the madreporal system, to which are due the islands in this ocean.

Madrepores (which must not be mistaken for corals) have a tissue lined with a calcareous crust, and the modifications of its structure have induced M. Milne Edwards, my worthy master, to class them into five sections. The animalcule that the marine polypus secretes live by millions at the bottom of their cells. Their calcareous deposits become rocks, reefs, and large and small islands. Here they form a ring, surrounding a little inland lake, that communicates with the sea by means of gaps. There they make barriers of reefs like those on the coasts of New Caledonia and the various Pomoton islands. In other places, like those at Reunion and at Maurice, they raise fringed reefs, high, straight walls, near which the depth of the ocean is considerable.

Some cable-lengths off the shores of the Island of Clermont I admired the gigantic work accomplished by these microscopical workers. These walls are specially the work of those madrepores known as milleporas, porites, madrepores, and astraeas. These polypi are found particularly in the rough beds of the sea, near the surface; and consequently it is from the upper part that they begin their operations, in which they bury themselves by degrees with the debris of the secretions that support them. Such is, at least, Darwin’s theory, who thus explains the formation of the atolls, a superior theory (to my mind) to that given of the foundation of the madreporical works, summits of mountains or volcanoes, that are submerged some feet below the level of the sea.

I could observe closely these curious walls, for perpendicularly they were more than 300 yards deep, and our electric sheets lighted up this calcareous matter brilliantly. Replying to a question Conseil asked me as to the time these colossal barriers took to be raised, I astonished him much by telling him that learned men reckoned it about the eighth of an inch in a hundred years.

Towards evening Clermont-Tonnerre was lost in the distance, and the route of the Nautiluswas sensibly changed. After having crossed the tropic of Capricorn in 135° longitude, it sailed W.N.W., making again for the tropical zone. Although the summer sun was very strong, we did not suffer from heat, for at fifteen or twenty fathoms below the surface, the temperature did not rise above from ten to twelve degrees.

On 15th of December, we left to the east the bewitching group of the Societies and the graceful Tahiti, queen of the Pacific. I saw in the morning, some miles to the windward, the elevated summits of the island. These waters furnished our table with excellent fish, mackerel, bonitos, and some varieties of a sea-serpent.

On the 25th of December the Nautilus sailed into the midst of the New Hebrides, discovered by Quiros in 1606, and that Bougainville explored in 1768, and to which Cook gave its present name in 1773. This group is composed principally of nine large islands, that form a band of 120 leagues N.N.S. to S.S.W., between 15° and 2° S. lat., and 164 deg. and 168° long. We passed tolerably near to the Island of Aurou, that at noon looked like a mass of green woods, surmounted by a peak of great height.

That day being Christmas Day, Ned Land seemed to regret sorely the non-celebration of “Christmas,” the family fete of which Protestants are so fond. I had not seen Captain Nemo for a week, when, on the morning of the 27th, he came into the large drawing-room, always seeming as if he had seen you five minutes before. I was busily tracing the route of theNautilus on the planisphere. The Captain came up to me, put his finger on one spot on the chart, and said this single word.

“Vanikoro.”

The effect was magical! It was the name of the islands on which La Perouse had been lost! I rose suddenly.

“The Nautilus has brought us to Vanikoro?” I asked.

“Yes, Professor,” said the Captain.

“And I can visit the celebrated islands where the Boussole and the Astrolabe struck?”

“If you like, Professor.”

“When shall we be there?”

“We are there now.”

Followed by Captain Nemo, I went up on to the platform, and greedily scanned the horizon.

To the N.E. two volcanic islands emerged of unequal size, surrounded by a coral reef that measured forty miles in circumference. We were close to Vanikoro, really the one to which Dumont d’Urville gave the name of Isle de la Recherche, and exactly facing the little harbour of Vanou, situated in 16° 4′ S. lat., and 164° 32′ E. long. The earth seemed covered with verdure from the shore to the summits in the interior, that were crowned by Mount Kapogo, 476 feet high. The Nautilus, having passed the outer belt of rocks by a narrow strait, found itself among breakers where the sea was from thirty to forty fathoms deep. Under the verdant shade of some mangroves I perceived some savages, who appeared greatly surprised at our approach. In the long black body, moving between wind and water, did they not see some formidable cetacean that they regarded with suspicion?

Just then Captain Nemo asked me what I knew about the wreck of La Perouse.

“Only what everyone knows, Captain,” I replied.

“And could you tell me what everyone knows about it?” he inquired, ironically.

“Easily.”

I related to him all that the last works of Dumont d’Urville had made known—works from which the following is a brief account.

La Perouse, and his second, Captain de Langle, were sent by Louis XVI, in 1785, on a voyage of circumnavigation. They embarked in the corvettes Boussole and the Astrolabe, neither of which were again heard of. In 1791, the French Government, justly uneasy as to the fate of these two sloops, manned two large merchantmen, the Recherche and the Esperance, which left Brest the 28th of September under the command of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux.

Two months after, they learned from Bowen, commander of the Albemarle, that the debris of shipwrecked vessels had been seen on the coasts of New Georgia. But D’Entrecasteaux, ignoring this communication—rather uncertain, besides—directed his course towards the Admiralty Islands, mentioned in a report of Captain Hunter’s as being the place where La Perouse was wrecked.

They sought in vain. The Esperance and the Recherche passed before Vanikoro without stopping there, and, in fact, this voyage was most disastrous, as it cost D’Entrecasteaux his life, and those of two of his lieutenants, besides several of his crew.

Captain Dillon, a shrewd old Pacific sailor, was the first to find unmistakable traces of the wrecks. On the 15th of May, 1824, his vessel, the St. Patrick, passed close to Tikopia, one of the New Hebrides. There a Lascar came alongside in a canoe, sold him the handle of a sword in silver that bore the print of characters engraved on the hilt. The Lascar pretended that six years before, during a stay at Vanikoro, he had seen two Europeans that belonged to some vessels that had run aground on the reefs some years ago.

Dillon guessed that he meant La Perouse, whose disappearance had troubled the whole world. He tried to get on to Vanikoro, where, according to the Lascar, he would find numerous debris of the wreck, but winds and tides prevented him.

Dillon returned to Calcutta. There he interested the Asiatic Society and the Indian Company in his discovery. A vessel, to which was given the name of the Recherche, was put at his disposal, and he set out, 23rd January, 1827, accompanied by a French agent.

The Recherche, after touching at several points in the Pacific, cast anchor before Vanikoro, 7th July, 1827, in that same harbour of Vanou where the Nautilus was at this time.

There it collected numerous relics of the wreck—iron utensils, anchors, pulley-strops, swivel-guns, an 18 lbs. shot, fragments of astronomical instruments, a piece of crown work, and a bronze clock, bearing this inscription—“Bazin m’a fait,” the mark of the foundry of the arsenal at Brest about 1785. There could be no further doubt.

Dillon, having made all inquiries, stayed in the unlucky place till October. Then he quitted Vanikoro, and directed his course towards New Zealand; put into Calcutta, 7th April, 1828, and returned to France, where he was warmly welcomed by Charles X.

But at the same time, without knowing Dillon’s movements, Dumont d’Urville had already set out to find the scene of the wreck. And they had learned from a whaler that some medals and a cross of St. Louis had been found in the hands of some savages of Louisiade and New Caledonia. Dumont d’Urville, commander of the Astrolabe, had then sailed, and two months after Dillon had left Vanikoro he put into Hobart Town. There he learned the results of Dillon’s inquiries, and found that a certain James Hobbs, second lieutenant of the Union of Calcutta, after landing on an island situated 8° 18′ S. lat., and 156° 30′ E. long., had seen some iron bars and red stuffs used by the natives of these parts. Dumont d’Urville, much perplexed, and not knowing how to credit the reports of low-class journals, decided to follow Dillon’s track.

On the 10th of February, 1828, the Astrolabe appeared off Tikopia, and took as guide and interpreter a deserter found on the island; made his way to Vanikoro, sighted it on the 12th inst., lay among the reefs until the 14th, and not until the 20th did he cast anchor within the barrier in the harbour of Vanou.

On the 23rd, several officers went round the island and brought back some unimportant trifles. The natives, adopting a system of denials and evasions, refused to take them to the unlucky place. This ambiguous conduct led them to believe that the natives had ill-treated the castaways, and indeed they seemed to fear that Dumont d’Urville had come to avenge La Perouse and his unfortunate crew.

However, on the 26th, appeased by some presents, and understanding that they had no reprisals to fear, they led M. Jacquireot to the scene of the wreck.

There, in three or four fathoms of water, between the reefs of Pacou and Vanou, lay anchors, cannons, pigs of lead and iron, embedded in the limy concretions. The large boat and the whaler belonging to the Astrolabe were sent to this place, and, not without some difficulty, their crews hauled up an anchor weighing 1,800 lbs., a brass gun, some pigs of iron, and two copper swivel-guns.

Dumont d’Urville, questioning the natives, learned too that La Perouse, after losing both his vessels on the reefs of this island, had constructed a smaller boat, only to be lost a second time. Where, no one knew.

But the French Government, fearing that Dumont d’Urville was not acquainted with Dillon’s movements, had sent the sloop Bayonnaise, commanded by Legoarant de Tromelin, to Vanikoro, which had been stationed on the west coast of America. The Bayonnaise cast her anchor before Vanikoro some months after the departure of the Astrolabe, but found no new document; but stated that the savages had respected the monument to La Perouse. That is the substance of what I told Captain Nemo.

“So,” he said, “no one knows now where the third vessel perished that was constructed by the castaways on the island of Vanikoro?”

“No one knows.”

Captain Nemo said nothing, but signed to me to follow him into the large saloon. The Nautilus sank several yards below the waves, and the panels were opened.

I hastened to the aperture, and under the crustations of coral, covered with fungi, syphonules, alcyons, madrepores, through myriads of charming fish—girelles, glyphisidri, pompherides, diacopes, and holocentres—I recognised certain debris that the drags had not been able to tear up—iron stirrups, anchors, cannons, bullets, capstan fittings, the stem of a ship, all objects clearly proving the wreck of some vessel, and now carpeted with living flowers. While I was looking on this desolate scene, Captain Nemo said, in a sad voice:

“Commander La Perouse set out 7th December, 1785, with his vessels La Boussole and the Astrolabe. He first cast anchor at Botany Bay, visited the Friendly Isles, New Caledonia, then directed his course towards Santa Cruz, and put into Namouka, one of the Hapai group. Then his vessels struck on the unknown reefs of Vanikoro. The Boussole, which went first, ran aground on the southerly coast. The Astrolabe went to its help, and ran aground too. The first vessel was destroyed almost immediately. The second, stranded under the wind, resisted some days. The natives made the castaways welcome. They installed themselves in the island, and constructed a smaller boat with the debris of the two large ones. Some sailors stayed willingly at Vanikoro; the others, weak and ill, set out with La Perouse. They directed their course towards the Solomon Islands, and there perished, with everything, on the westerly coast of the chief island of the group, between Capes Deception and Satisfaction.”

“How do you know that?”

“By this, that I found on the spot where was the last wreck.”

Captain Nemo showed me a tin-plate box, stamped with the French arms, and corroded by the salt water. He opened it, and I saw a bundle of papers, yellow but still readable.

They were the instructions of the naval minister to Commander La Perouse, annotated in the margin in Louis XVI’s handwriting.

“Ah! it is a fine death for a sailor!” said Captain Nemo, at last. “A coral tomb makes a quiet grave; and I trust that I and my comrades will find no other.”

CHAPTER XIX TORRES STRAITS

During the night of the 27th or 28th of December, the Nautilus left the shores of Vanikoro with great speed. Her course was south-westerly, and in three days she had gone over the 750 leagues that separated it from La Perouse’s group and the south-east point of Papua.

Early on the 1st of January, 1863, Conseil joined me on the platform.

“Master, will you permit me to wish you a happy New Year?”

“What! Conseil; exactly as if I was at Paris in my study at the Jardin des Plantes? Well, I accept your good wishes, and thank you for them. Only, I will ask you what you mean by a ‘Happy New Year’ under our circumstances? Do you mean the year that will bring us to the end of our imprisonment, or the year that sees us continue this strange voyage?”

“Really, I do not know how to answer, master. We are sure to see curious things, and for the last two months we have not had time for dullness. The last marvel is always the most astonishing; and, if we continue this progression, I do not know how it will end. It is my opinion that we shall never again see the like. I think then, with no offence to master, that a happy year would be one in which we could see everything.”

On 2nd January we had made 11,340 miles, or 5,250 French leagues, since our starting-point in the Japan Seas. Before the ship’s head stretched the dangerous shores of the coral sea, on the north-east coast of Australia. Our boat lay along some miles from the redoubtable bank on which Cook’s vessel was lost, 10th June, 1770. The boat in which Cook was struck on a rock, and, if it did not sink, it was owing to a piece of coral that was broken by the shock, and fixed itself in the broken keel.

I had wished to visit the reef, 360 leagues long, against which the sea, always rough, broke with great violence, with a noise like thunder. But just then the inclined planes drew the Nautilus down to a great depth, and I could see nothing of the high coral walls. I had to content myself with the different specimens of fish brought up by the nets. I remarked, among others, some germons, a species of mackerel as large as a tunny, with bluish sides, and striped with transverse bands, that disappear with the animal’s life.

These fish followed us in shoals, and furnished us with very delicate food. We took also a large number of gilt-heads, about one and a half inches long, tasting like dorys; and flying pyrapeds like submarine swallows, which, in dark nights, light alternately the air and water with their phosphorescent light. Among the molluscs and zoophytes, I found in the meshes of the net several species of alcyonarians, echini, hammers, spurs, dials, cerites, and hyalleae. The flora was represented by beautiful floating seaweeds, laminariae, and macrocystes, impregnated with the mucilage that transudes through their pores; and among which I gathered an admirable Nemastoma Geliniarois, that was classed among the natural curiosities of the museum.

Two days after crossing the coral sea, 4th January, we sighted the Papuan coasts. On this occasion, Captain Nemo informed me that his intention was to get into the Indian Ocean by the Strait of Torres. His communication ended there.

The Torres Straits are nearly thirty-four leagues wide; but they are obstructed by an innumerable quantity of islands, islets, breakers, and rocks, that make its navigation almost impracticable; so that Captain Nemo took all needful precautions to cross them. The Nautilus, floating betwixt wind and water, went at a moderate pace. Her screw, like a cetacean’s tail, beat the waves slowly.

Profiting by this, I and my two companions went up on to the deserted platform. Before us was the steersman’s cage, and I expected that Captain Nemo was there directing the course of the Nautilus. I had before me the excellent charts of the Straits of Torres, and I consulted them attentively. Round the Nautilus the sea dashed furiously. The course of the waves, that went from south-east to north-west at the rate of two and a half miles, broke on the coral that showed itself here and there.

“This is a bad sea!” remarked Ned Land.

“Detestable indeed, and one that does not suit a boat like the Nautilus.”

“The Captain must be very sure of his route, for I see there pieces of coral that would do for its keel if it only touched them slightly.”

Indeed the situation was dangerous, but the Nautilus seemed to slide like magic off these rocks. It did not follow the routes of the Astrolabe and the Zelee exactly, for they proved fatal to Dumont d’Urville. It bore more northwards, coasted the Islands of Murray, and came back to the south-west towards Cumberland Passage. I thought it was going to pass it by, when, going back to north-west, it went through a large quantity of islands and islets little known, towards the Island Sound and Canal Mauvais.

I wondered if Captain Nemo, foolishly imprudent, would steer his vessel into that pass where Dumont d’Urville’s two corvettes touched; when, swerving again, and cutting straight through to the west, he steered for the Island of Gilboa.

It was then three in the afternoon. The tide began to recede, being quite full. The Nautilusapproached the island, that I still saw, with its remarkable border of screw-pines. He stood off it at about two miles distant. Suddenly a shock overthrew me. The Nautilus just touched a rock, and stayed immovable, laying lightly to port side.

When I rose, I perceived Captain Nemo and his lieutenant on the platform. They were examining the situation of the vessel, and exchanging words in their incomprehensible dialect.

She was situated thus: Two miles, on the starboard side, appeared Gilboa, stretching from north to west like an immense arm. Towards the south and east some coral showed itself, left by the ebb. We had run aground, and in one of those seas where the tides are middling—a sorry matter for the floating of the Nautilus. However, the vessel had not suffered, for her keel was solidly joined. But, if she could neither glide off nor move, she ran the risk of being for ever fastened to these rocks, and then Captain Nemo’s submarine vessel would be done for.

I was reflecting thus, when the Captain, cool and calm, always master of himself, approached me.

“An accident?” I asked.

“No; an incident.”

“But an incident that will oblige you perhaps to become an inhabitant of this land from which you flee?”

Captain Nemo looked at me curiously, and made a negative gesture, as much as to say that nothing would force him to set foot on terra firma again. Then he said:

“Besides, M. Aronnax, the Nautilus is not lost; it will carry you yet into the midst of the marvels of the ocean. Our voyage is only begun, and I do not wish to be deprived so soon of the honour of your company.”

“However, Captain Nemo,” I replied, without noticing the ironical turn of his phrase, “the Nautilus ran aground in open sea. Now the tides are not strong in the Pacific; and, if you cannot lighten the Nautilus, I do not see how it will be reinflated.”

“The tides are not strong in the Pacific: you are right there, Professor; but in Torres Straits one finds still a difference of a yard and a half between the level of high and low seas. To-day is 4th January, and in five days the moon will be full. Now, I shall be very much astonished if that satellite does not raise these masses of water sufficiently, and render me a service that I should be indebted to her for.”

Having said this, Captain Nemo, followed by his lieutenant, redescended to the interior of the Nautilus. As to the vessel, it moved not, and was immovable, as if the coralline polypi had already walled it up with their in destructible cement.

“Well, sir?” said Ned Land, who came up to me after the departure of the Captain.

“Well, friend Ned, we will wait patiently for the tide on the 9th instant; for it appears that the moon will have the goodness to put it off again.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And this Captain is not going to cast anchor at all since the tide will suffice?” said Conseil, simply.

The Canadian looked at Conseil, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Sir, you may believe me when I tell you that this piece of iron will navigate neither on nor under the sea again; it is only fit to be sold for its weight. I think, therefore, that the time has come to part company with Captain Nemo.”

“Friend Ned, I do not despair of this stout Nautilus, as you do; and in four days we shall know what to hold to on the Pacific tides. Besides, flight might be possible if we were in sight of the English or Provencal coast; but on the Papuan shores, it is another thing; and it will be time enough to come to that extremity if the Nautilus does not recover itself again, which I look upon as a grave event.”

“But do they know, at least, how to act circumspectly? There is an island; on that island there are trees; under those trees, terrestrial animals, bearers of cutlets and roast beef, to which I would willingly give a trial.”

“In this, friend Ned is right,” said Conseil, “and I agree with him. Could not master obtain permission from his friend Captain Nemo to put us on land, if only so as not to lose the habit of treading on the solid parts of our planet?”

“I can ask him, but he will refuse.”

“Will master risk it?” asked Conseil, “and we shall know how to rely upon the Captain’s amiability.”

To my great surprise, Captain Nemo gave me the permission I asked for, and he gave it very agreeably, without even exacting from me a promise to return to the vessel; but flight across New Guinea might be very perilous, and I should not have counselled Ned Land to attempt it. Better to be a prisoner on board the Nautilus than to fall into the hands of the natives.

At eight o’clock, armed with guns and hatchets, we got off the Nautilus. The sea was pretty calm; a slight breeze blew on land. Conseil and I rowing, we sped along quickly, and Ned steered in the straight passage that the breakers left between them. The boat was well handled, and moved rapidly.

Ned Land could not restrain his joy. He was like a prisoner that had escaped from prison, and knew not that it was necessary to re-enter it.

“Meat! We are going to eat some meat; and what meat!” he replied. “Real game! no, bread, indeed.”

“I do not say that fish is not good; we must not abuse it; but a piece of fresh venison, grilled on live coals, will agreeably vary our ordinary course.”

“Glutton!” said Conseil, “he makes my mouth water.”

“It remains to be seen,” I said, “if these forests are full of game, and if the game is not such as will hunt the hunter himself.”

“Well said, M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian, whose teeth seemed sharpened like the edge of a hatchet; “but I will eat tiger—loin of tiger—if there is no other quadruped on this island.”

“Friend Ned is uneasy about it,” said Conseil.

“Whatever it may be,” continued Ned Land, “every animal with four paws without feathers, or with two paws without feathers, will be saluted by my first shot.”

“Very well! Master Land’s imprudences are beginning.”

“Never fear, M. Aronnax,” replied the Canadian; “I do not want twenty-five minutes to offer you a dish, of my sort.”

At half-past eight the Nautilus boat ran softly aground on a heavy sand, after having happily passed the coral reef that surrounds the Island of Gilboa.

CHAPTER XX A FEW DAYS ON LAND

I was much impressed on touching land. Ned Land tried the soil with his feet, as if to take possession of it. However, it was only two months before that we had become, according to Captain Nemo, “passengers on board the Nautilus,” but, in reality, prisoners of its commander.

In a few minutes we were within musket-shot of the coast. The whole horizon was hidden behind a beautiful curtain of forests. Enormous trees, the trunks of which attained a height of 200 feet, were tied to each other by garlands of bindweed, real natural hammocks, which a light breeze rocked. They were mimosas, figs, hibisci, and palm trees, mingled together in profusion; and under the shelter of their verdant vault grew orchids, leguminous plants, and ferns.

But, without noticing all these beautiful specimens of Papuan flora, the Canadian abandoned the agreeable for the useful. He discovered a coco-tree, beat down some of the fruit, broke them, and we drunk the milk and ate the nut with a satisfaction that protested against the ordinary food on the Nautilus.

“Excellent!” said Ned Land.

“Exquisite!” replied Conseil.

“And I do not think,” said the Canadian, “that he would object to our introducing a cargo of coco-nuts on board.”

“I do not think he would, but he would not taste them.”

“So much the worse for him,” said Conseil.

“And so much the better for us,” replied Ned Land. “There will be more for us.”

“One word only, Master Land,” I said to the harpooner, who was beginning to ravage another coco-nut tree. “Coco-nuts are good things, but before filling the canoe with them it would be wise to reconnoitre and see if the island does not produce some substance not less useful. Fresh vegetables would be welcome on board the Nautilus.”

“Master is right,” replied Conseil; “and I propose to reserve three places in our vessel, one for fruits, the other for vegetables, and the third for the venison, of which I have not yet seen the smallest specimen.”

“Conseil, we must not despair,” said the Canadian.

“Let us continue,” I returned, “and lie in wait. Although the island seems uninhabited, it might still contain some individuals that would be less hard than we on the nature of game.”

“Ho! ho!” said Ned Land, moving his jaws significantly.

“Well, Ned!” said Conseil.

“My word!” returned the Canadian, “I begin to understand the charms of anthropophagy.”

“Ned! Ned! what are you saying? You, a man-eater? I should not feel safe with you, especially as I share your cabin. I might perhaps wake one day to find myself half devoured.”

“Friend Conseil, I like you much, but not enough to eat you unnecessarily.”

“I would not trust you,” replied Conseil. “But enough. We must absolutely bring down some game to satisfy this cannibal, or else one of these fine mornings, master will find only pieces of his servant to serve him.”

While we were talking thus, we were penetrating the sombre arches of the forest, and for two hours we surveyed it in all directions.

Chance rewarded our search for eatable vegetables, and one of the most useful products of the tropical zones furnished us with precious food that we missed on board. I would speak of the bread-fruit tree, very abundant in the island of Gilboa; and I remarked chiefly the variety destitute of seeds, which bears in Malaya the name of “rima.”

Ned Land knew these fruits well. He had already eaten many during his numerous voyages, and he knew how to prepare the eatable substance. Moreover, the sight of them excited him, and he could contain himself no longer.

“Master,” he said, “I shall die if I do not taste a little of this bread-fruit pie.”

“Taste it, friend Ned—taste it as you want. We are here to make experiments—make them.”

“It won’t take long,” said the Canadian.

And, provided with a lentil, he lighted a fire of dead wood that crackled joyously. During this time, Conseil and I chose the best fruits of the bread-fruit. Some had not then attained a sufficient degree of maturity; and their thick skin covered a white but rather fibrous pulp. Others, the greater number yellow and gelatinous, waited only to be picked.

These fruits enclosed no kernel. Conseil brought a dozen to Ned Land, who placed them on a coal fire, after having cut them in thick slices, and while doing this repeating:

“You will see, master, how good this bread is. More so when one has been deprived of it so long. It is not even bread,” added he, “but a delicate pastry. You have eaten none, master?”

“No, Ned.”

“Very well, prepare yourself for a juicy thing. If you do not come for more, I am no longer the king of harpooners.”

After some minutes, the part of the fruits that was exposed to the fire was completely roasted. The interior looked like a white pasty, a sort of soft crumb, the flavour of which was like that of an artichoke.

It must be confessed this bread was excellent, and I ate of it with great relish.

“What time is it now?” asked the Canadian.

“Two o’clock at least,” replied Conseil.

“How time flies on firm ground!” sighed Ned Land.

“Let us be off,” replied Conseil.

We returned through the forest, and completed our collection by a raid upon the cabbage-palms, that we gathered from the tops of the trees, little beans that I recognised as the “abrou” of the Malays, and yams of a superior quality.

We were loaded when we reached the boat. But Ned Land did not find his provisions sufficient. Fate, however, favoured us. Just as we were pushing off, he perceived several trees, from twenty-five to thirty feet high, a species of palm-tree.

At last, at five o’clock in the evening, loaded with our riches, we quitted the shore, and half an hour after we hailed the Nautilus. No one appeared on our arrival. The enormous iron-plated cylinder seemed deserted. The provisions embarked, I descended to my chamber, and after supper slept soundly.

The next day, 6th January, nothing new on board. Not a sound inside, not a sign of life. The boat rested along the edge, in the same place in which we had left it. We resolved to return to the island. Ned Land hoped to be more fortunate than on the day before with regard to the hunt, and wished to visit another part of the forest.

At dawn we set off. The boat, carried on by the waves that flowed to shore, reached the island in a few minutes.

We landed, and, thinking that it was better to give in to the Canadian, we followed Ned Land, whose long limbs threatened to distance us. He wound up the coast towards the west: then, fording some torrents, he gained the high plain that was bordered with admirable forests. Some kingfishers were rambling along the water-courses, but they would not let themselves be approached. Their circumspection proved to me that these birds knew what to expect from bipeds of our species, and I concluded that, if the island was not inhabited, at least human beings occasionally frequented it.

After crossing a rather large prairie, we arrived at the skirts of a little wood that was enlivened by the songs and flight of a large number of birds.

“There are only birds,” said Conseil.

“But they are eatable,” replied the harpooner.

“I do not agree with you, friend Ned, for I see only parrots there.”

“Friend Conseil,” said Ned, gravely, “the parrot is like pheasant to those who have nothing else.”

“And,” I added, “this bird, suitably prepared, is worth knife and fork.”

Indeed, under the thick foliage of this wood, a world of parrots were flying from branch to branch, only needing a careful education to speak the human language. For the moment, they were chattering with parrots of all colours, and grave cockatoos, who seemed to meditate upon some philosophical problem, whilst brilliant red lories passed like a piece of bunting carried away by the breeze, papuans, with the finest azure colours, and in all a variety of winged things most charming to behold, but few eatable.

However, a bird peculiar to these lands, and which has never passed the limits of the Arrow and Papuan islands, was wanting in this collection. But fortune reserved it for me before long.

After passing through a moderately thick copse, we found a plain obstructed with bushes. I saw then those magnificent birds, the disposition of whose long feathers obliges them to fly against the wind. Their undulating flight, graceful aerial curves, and the shading of their colours, attracted and charmed one’s looks. I had no trouble in recognising them.

“Birds of paradise!” I exclaimed.

The Malays, who carry on a great trade in these birds with the Chinese, have several means that we could not employ for taking them. Sometimes they put snares on the top of high trees that the birds of paradise prefer to frequent. Sometimes they catch them with a viscous birdlime that paralyses their movements. They even go so far as to poison the fountains that the birds generally drink from. But we were obliged to fire at them during flight, which gave us few chances to bring them down; and, indeed, we vainly exhausted one half our ammunition.

About eleven o’clock in the morning, the first range of mountains that form the centre of the island was traversed, and we had killed nothing. Hunger drove us on. The hunters had relied on the products of the chase, and they were wrong. Happily Conseil, to his great surprise, made a double shot and secured breakfast. He brought down a white pigeon and a wood-pigeon, which, cleverly plucked and suspended from a skewer, was roasted before a red fire of dead wood. While these interesting birds were cooking, Ned prepared the fruit of the bread-tree. Then the wood-pigeons were devoured to the bones, and declared excellent. The nutmeg, with which they are in the habit of stuffing their crops, flavours their flesh and renders it delicious eating.

“Now, Ned, what do you miss now?”

“Some four-footed game, M. Aronnax. All these pigeons are only side-dishes and trifles; and until I have killed an animal with cutlets I shall not be content.”

“Nor I, Ned, if I do not catch a bird of paradise.”

“Let us continue hunting,” replied Conseil. “Let us go towards the sea. We have arrived at the first declivities of the mountains, and I think we had better regain the region of forests.”

That was sensible advice, and was followed out. After walking for one hour we had attained a forest of sago-trees. Some inoffensive serpents glided away from us. The birds of paradise fled at our approach, and truly I despaired of getting near one when Conseil, who was walking in front, suddenly bent down, uttered a triumphal cry, and came back to me bringing a magnificent specimen.

“Ah! bravo, Conseil!”

“Master is very good.”

“No, my boy; you have made an excellent stroke. Take one of these living birds, and carry it in your hand.”

“If master will examine it, he will see that I have not deserved great merit.”

“Why, Conseil?”

“Because this bird is as drunk as a quail.”

“Drunk!”

“Yes, sir; drunk with the nutmegs that it devoured under the nutmeg-tree, under which I found it. See, friend Ned, see the monstrous effects of intemperance!”

“By Jove!” exclaimed the Canadian, “because I have drunk gin for two months, you must needs reproach me!”

However, I examined the curious bird. Conseil was right. The bird, drunk with the juice, was quite powerless. It could not fly; it could hardly walk.

This bird belonged to the most beautiful of the eight species that are found in Papua and in the neighbouring islands. It was the “large emerald bird, the most rare kind.” It measured three feet in length. Its head was comparatively small, its eyes placed near the opening of the beak, and also small. But the shades of colour were beautiful, having a yellow beak, brown feet and claws, nut-coloured wings with purple tips, pale yellow at the back of the neck and head, and emerald colour at the throat, chestnut on the breast and belly. Two horned, downy nets rose from below the tail, that prolonged the long light feathers of admirable fineness, and they completed the whole of this marvellous bird, that the natives have poetically named the “bird of the sun.”

But if my wishes were satisfied by the possession of the bird of paradise, the Canadian’s were not yet. Happily, about two o’clock, Ned Land brought down a magnificent hog; from the brood of those the natives call “bari-outang.” The animal came in time for us to procure real quadruped meat, and he was well received. Ned Land was very proud of his shot. The hog, hit by the electric ball, fell stone dead. The Canadian skinned and cleaned it properly, after having taken half a dozen cutlets, destined to furnish us with a grilled repast in the evening. Then the hunt was resumed, which was still more marked by Ned and Conseil’s exploits.

Indeed, the two friends, beating the bushes, roused a herd of kangaroos that fled and bounded along on their elastic paws. But these animals did not take to flight so rapidly but what the electric capsule could stop their course.

“Ah, Professor!” cried Ned Land, who was carried away by the delights of the chase, “what excellent game, and stewed, too! What a supply for the Nautilus! Two! three! five down! And to think that we shall eat that flesh, and that the idiots on board shall not have a crumb!”

I think that, in the excess of his joy, the Canadian, if he had not talked so much, would have killed them all. But he contented himself with a single dozen of these interesting marsupians. These animals were small. They were a species of those “kangaroo rabbitss” that live habitually in the hollows of trees, and whose speed is extreme; but they are moderately fat, and furnish, at least, estimable food. We were very satisfied with the results of the hunt. Happy Ned proposed to return to this enchanting island the next day, for he wished to depopulate it of all the eatable quadrupeds. But he had reckoned without his host.

At six o’clock in the evening we had regained the shore; our boat was moored to the usual place. The Nautilus, like a long rock, emerged from the waves two miles from the beach. Ned Land, without waiting, occupied himself about the important dinner business. He understood all about cooking well. The “bari-outang,” grilled on the coals, soon scented the air with a delicious odour.

Indeed, the dinner was excellent. Two wood-pigeons completed this extraordinary menu. The sago pasty, the artocarpus bread, some mangoes, half a dozen pineapples, and the liquor fermented from some coco-nuts, overjoyed us. I even think that my worthy companions’ ideas had not all the plainness desirable.

“Suppose we do not return to the Nautilus this evening?” said Conseil.

“Suppose we never return?” added Ned Land.

Just then a stone fell at our feet and cut short the harpooner’s proposition.

[year2000electronics]

redraw of an old piece bc i was always proud of this one but it was OLD!!!

get that dilf outta there

[lovecharged]

@tkachukmatthew starter for thomas 'tommy' darwin

"you uh -- reckon that could happen again?"

[20k-leagues-speedrun]

CHAPTER XVIII VANIKORO

This terrible spectacle was the forerunner of the series of maritime catastrophes that the Nautilus was destined to meet with in its route. As long as it went through more frequented waters, we often saw the hulls of shipwrecked vessels that were rotting in the depths, and deeper down cannons, bullets, anchors, chains, and a thousand other iron materials eaten up by rust. However, on the 11th of December we sighted the Pomotou Islands, the old “dangerous group” of Bougainville, that extend over a space of 500 leagues at E.S.E. to W.N.W., from the Island Ducie to that of Lazareff. This group covers an area of 370 square leagues, and it is formed of sixty groups of islands, among which the Gambier group is remarkable, over which France exercises sway. These are coral islands, slowly raised, but continuous, created by the daily work of polypi. Then this new island will be joined later on to the neighboring groups, and a fifth continent will stretch from New Zealand and New Caledonia, and from thence to the Marquesas.

One day, when I was suggesting this theory to Captain Nemo, he replied coldly:

“The earth does not want new continents, but new men.”

Chance had conducted the Nautilus towards the Island of Clermont-Tonnere, one of the most curious of the group, that was discovered in 1822 by Captain Bell of the Minerva. I could study now the madreporal system, to which are due the islands in this ocean.

Madrepores (which must not be mistaken for corals) have a tissue lined with a calcareous crust, and the modifications of its structure have induced M. Milne Edwards, my worthy master, to class them into five sections. The animalcule that the marine polypus secretes live by millions at the bottom of their cells. Their calcareous deposits become rocks, reefs, and large and small islands. Here they form a ring, surrounding a little inland lake, that communicates with the sea by means of gaps. There they make barriers of reefs like those on the coasts of New Caledonia and the various Pomoton islands. In other places, like those at Reunion and at Maurice, they raise fringed reefs, high, straight walls, near which the depth of the ocean is considerable.

Some cable-lengths off the shores of the Island of Clermont I admired the gigantic work accomplished by these microscopical workers. These walls are specially the work of those madrepores known as milleporas, porites, madrepores, and astraeas. These polypi are found particularly in the rough beds of the sea, near the surface; and consequently it is from the upper part that they begin their operations, in which they bury themselves by degrees with the debris of the secretions that support them. Such is, at least, Darwin’s theory, who thus explains the formation of the atolls, a superior theory (to my mind) to that given of the foundation of the madreporical works, summits of mountains or volcanoes, that are submerged some feet below the level of the sea.

I could observe closely these curious walls, for perpendicularly they were more than 300 yards deep, and our electric sheets lighted up this calcareous matter brilliantly. Replying to a question Conseil asked me as to the time these colossal barriers took to be raised, I astonished him much by telling him that learned men reckoned it about the eighth of an inch in a hundred years.

Towards evening Clermont-Tonnerre was lost in the distance, and the route of the Nautilus was sensibly changed. After having crossed the tropic of Capricorn in 135° longitude, it sailed W.N.W., making again for the tropical zone. Although the summer sun was very strong, we did not suffer from heat, for at fifteen or twenty fathoms below the surface, the temperature did not rise above from ten to twelve degrees.

On 15th of December, we left to the east the bewitching group of the Societies and the graceful Tahiti, queen of the Pacific. I saw in the morning, some miles to the windward, the elevated summits of the island. These waters furnished our table with excellent fish, mackerel, bonitos, and some varieties of a sea-serpent.

On the 25th of December the Nautilus sailed into the midst of the New Hebrides, discovered by Quiros in 1606, and that Bougainville explored in 1768, and to which Cook gave its present name in 1773. This group is composed principally of nine large islands, that form a band of 120 leagues N.N.S. to S.S.W., between 15° and 2° S. lat., and 164 deg. and 168° long. We passed tolerably near to the Island of Aurou, that at noon looked like a mass of green woods, surmounted by a peak of great height.

That day being Christmas Day, Ned Land seemed to regret sorely the non-celebration of “Christmas,” the family fete of which Protestants are so fond. I had not seen Captain Nemo for a week, when, on the morning of the 27th, he came into the large drawing-room, always seeming as if he had seen you five minutes before. I was busily tracing the route of the Nautilus on the planisphere. The Captain came up to me, put his finger on one spot on the chart, and said this single word.

“Vanikoro.”

The effect was magical! It was the name of the islands on which La Perouse had been lost! I rose suddenly.

“The Nautilus has brought us to Vanikoro?” I asked.

“Yes, Professor,” said the Captain.

“And I can visit the celebrated islands where the Boussole and the Astrolabe struck?”

“If you like, Professor.”

“When shall we be there?”

“We are there now.”

Followed by Captain Nemo, I went up on to the platform, and greedily scanned the horizon.

To the N.E. two volcanic islands emerged of unequal size, surrounded by a coral reef that measured forty miles in circumference. We were close to Vanikoro, really the one to which Dumont d’Urville gave the name of Isle de la Recherche, and exactly facing the little harbour of Vanou, situated in 16° 4′ S. lat., and 164° 32′ E. long. The earth seemed covered with verdure from the shore to the summits in the interior, that were crowned by Mount Kapogo, 476 feet high. The Nautilus, having passed the outer belt of rocks by a narrow strait, found itself among breakers where the sea was from thirty to forty fathoms deep. Under the verdant shade of some mangroves I perceived some savages, who appeared greatly surprised at our approach. In the long black body, moving between wind and water, did they not see some formidable cetacean that they regarded with suspicion?

Just then Captain Nemo asked me what I knew about the wreck of La Perouse.

“Only what everyone knows, Captain,” I replied.

“And could you tell me what everyone knows about it?” he inquired, ironically.

“Easily.”

I related to him all that the last works of Dumont d’Urville had made known—works from which the following is a brief account.

La Perouse, and his second, Captain de Langle, were sent by Louis XVI, in 1785, on a voyage of circumnavigation. They embarked in the corvettes Boussole and the Astrolabe, neither of which were again heard of. In 1791, the French Government, justly uneasy as to the fate of these two sloops, manned two large merchantmen, the Recherche and the Esperance, which left Brest the 28th of September under the command of Bruni d’Entrecasteaux.

Two months after, they learned from Bowen, commander of the Albemarle, that the debris of shipwrecked vessels had been seen on the coasts of New Georgia. But D’Entrecasteaux, ignoring this communication—rather uncertain, besides—directed his course towards the Admiralty Islands, mentioned in a report of Captain Hunter’s as being the place where La Perouse was wrecked.

They sought in vain. The Esperance and the Recherche passed before Vanikoro without stopping there, and, in fact, this voyage was most disastrous, as it cost D’Entrecasteaux his life, and those of two of his lieutenants, besides several of his crew.

Captain Dillon, a shrewd old Pacific sailor, was the first to find unmistakable traces of the wrecks. On the 15th of May, 1824, his vessel, the St. Patrick, passed close to Tikopia, one of the New Hebrides. There a Lascar came alongside in a canoe, sold him the handle of a sword in silver that bore the print of characters engraved on the hilt. The Lascar pretended that six years before, during a stay at Vanikoro, he had seen two Europeans that belonged to some vessels that had run aground on the reefs some years ago.

Dillon guessed that he meant La Perouse, whose disappearance had troubled the whole world. He tried to get on to Vanikoro, where, according to the Lascar, he would find numerous debris of the wreck, but winds and tides prevented him.

Dillon returned to Calcutta. There he interested the Asiatic Society and the Indian Company in his discovery. A vessel, to which was given the name of the Recherche, was put at his disposal, and he set out, 23rd January, 1827, accompanied by a French agent.

The Recherche, after touching at several points in the Pacific, cast anchor before Vanikoro, 7th July, 1827, in that same harbour of Vanou where the Nautilus was at this time.

There it collected numerous relics of the wreck—iron utensils, anchors, pulley-strops, swivel-guns, an 18 lbs. shot, fragments of astronomical instruments, a piece of crown work, and a bronze clock, bearing this inscription—“Bazin m’a fait,” the mark of the foundry of the arsenal at Brest about 1785. There could be no further doubt.

Dillon, having made all inquiries, stayed in the unlucky place till October. Then he quitted Vanikoro, and directed his course towards New Zealand; put into Calcutta, 7th April, 1828, and returned to France, where he was warmly welcomed by Charles X.

But at the same time, without knowing Dillon’s movements, Dumont d’Urville had already set out to find the scene of the wreck. And they had learned from a whaler that some medals and a cross of St. Louis had been found in the hands of some savages of Louisiade and New Caledonia. Dumont d’Urville, commander of the Astrolabe, had then sailed, and two months after Dillon had left Vanikoro he put into Hobart Town. There he learned the results of Dillon’s inquiries, and found that a certain James Hobbs, second lieutenant of the Union of Calcutta, after landing on an island situated 8° 18′ S. lat., and 156° 30′ E. long., had seen some iron bars and red stuffs used by the natives of these parts. Dumont d’Urville, much perplexed, and not knowing how to credit the reports of low-class journals, decided to follow Dillon’s track.

On the 10th of February, 1828, the Astrolabe appeared off Tikopia, and took as guide and interpreter a deserter found on the island; made his way to Vanikoro, sighted it on the 12th inst., lay among the reefs until the 14th, and not until the 20th did he cast anchor within the barrier in the harbour of Vanou.

On the 23rd, several officers went round the island and brought back some unimportant trifles. The natives, adopting a system of denials and evasions, refused to take them to the unlucky place. This ambiguous conduct led them to believe that the natives had ill-treated the castaways, and indeed they seemed to fear that Dumont d’Urville had come to avenge La Perouse and his unfortunate crew.

However, on the 26th, appeased by some presents, and understanding that they had no reprisals to fear, they led M. Jacquireot to the scene of the wreck.

There, in three or four fathoms of water, between the reefs of Pacou and Vanou, lay anchors, cannons, pigs of lead and iron, embedded in the limy concretions. The large boat and the whaler belonging to the Astrolabe were sent to this place, and, not without some difficulty, their crews hauled up an anchor weighing 1,800 lbs., a brass gun, some pigs of iron, and two copper swivel-guns.

Dumont d’Urville, questioning the natives, learned too that La Perouse, after losing both his vessels on the reefs of this island, had constructed a smaller boat, only to be lost a second time. Where, no one knew.

But the French Government, fearing that Dumont d’Urville was not acquainted with Dillon’s movements, had sent the sloop Bayonnaise, commanded by Legoarant de Tromelin, to Vanikoro, which had been stationed on the west coast of America. The Bayonnaise cast her anchor before Vanikoro some months after the departure of the Astrolabe, but found no new document; but stated that the savages had respected the monument to La Perouse. That is the substance of what I told Captain Nemo.

“So,” he said, “no one knows now where the third vessel perished that was constructed by the castaways on the island of Vanikoro?”

“No one knows.”

Captain Nemo said nothing, but signed to me to follow him into the large saloon. The Nautilus sank several yards below the waves, and the panels were opened.

I hastened to the aperture, and under the crustations of coral, covered with fungi, syphonules, alcyons, madrepores, through myriads of charming fish—girelles, glyphisidri, pompherides, diacopes, and holocentres—I recognised certain debris that the drags had not been able to tear up—iron stirrups, anchors, cannons, bullets, capstan fittings, the stem of a ship, all objects clearly proving the wreck of some vessel, and now carpeted with living flowers. While I was looking on this desolate scene, Captain Nemo said, in a sad voice:

“Commander La Perouse set out 7th December, 1785, with his vessels La Boussole and the Astrolabe. He first cast anchor at Botany Bay, visited the Friendly Isles, New Caledonia, then directed his course towards Santa Cruz, and put into Namouka, one of the Hapai group. Then his vessels struck on the unknown reefs of Vanikoro. The Boussole, which went first, ran aground on the southerly coast. The Astrolabe went to its help, and ran aground too. The first vessel was destroyed almost immediately. The second, stranded under the wind, resisted some days. The natives made the castaways welcome. They installed themselves in the island, and constructed a smaller boat with the debris of the two large ones. Some sailors stayed willingly at Vanikoro; the others, weak and ill, set out with La Perouse. They directed their course towards the Solomon Islands, and there perished, with everything, on the westerly coast of the chief island of the group, between Capes Deception and Satisfaction.”

“How do you know that?”

“By this, that I found on the spot where was the last wreck.”

Captain Nemo showed me a tin-plate box, stamped with the French arms, and corroded by the salt water. He opened it, and I saw a bundle of papers, yellow but still readable.

They were the instructions of the naval minister to Commander La Perouse, annotated in the margin in Louis XVI’s handwriting.

“Ah! it is a fine death for a sailor!” said Captain Nemo, at last. “A coral tomb makes a quiet grave; and I trust that I and my comrades will find no other.”

[winterandwords]

Happy no pressure STS! Which OCs would enjoy karaoke? Would there be any particular songs they would sing?

Thanks for the ask!

This is cracking me up because I'm trying to imagine my OCs doing karaoke and the only one I can think of who would even remotely be up for it would be Amber from Project Darwin. She'd love it though and she'd be excellent at it because she's a musical soul.

The first part of the book is set in the mid-90s and Amber's really into grunge and alt rock, so I reckon her song of choice would be Runaway Train by Soul Asylum.

[landosmclaren]

how far into the 22/23 season you reckon i’ll get before i change my url to something for darwin nunez