The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (21 page)

Crewmen vented the vessels foul interior to release smoke and stagnant
atmosphere, pumping in fresh air. They flung open the upper hatch as the engines
and pumps continued to labor. Haunted-looking men pressed their heads out into
the open breezes, amazed that they had lived to see the surface again.

In dire need of repairs, the wallowing
Nautilus
creaked and moaned
on the high seas. And Nemo and his men were the only people on Earth with the
knowledge and skills to fix the exotic vessel.

Taking shifts inside, the surviving crewmen moved about in a daze, replacing
broken fittings, resetting furnishings, and mopping up the last standing pools
of sea water that had flooded the corridors.

Quatermain, Sawyer, Nemo, and Mina met in Nemo's stateroom to discuss the
larger implications of his schemes, and to make plans of their own. With the
exception of the ever-optimistic young American, all of them wore an air of
defeat. Seeking an outlet for his anger and helplessness, Quatermain took the
damaged gramophone disc from the player, and made a point of grinding it under
his heel.

Looking shell-shocked, a restored Dr. Jekyll was the last to arrive. After
his exertions, the elixir had worn off, leaving him in his frail and fidgety
body. But he had served his purpose well. Quatermain nodded to the doctor in
silent acknowledgment of his valor.

Jekyll shrank away, embarrassed. "Well… let's not make a saint out of a
sinner. Next time, Hyde may not choose to be so helpful." Avoiding further
discussion, he turned his attention to the damaged undersea map. The indicators
of both the fleeing nautiloid and the larger vessel had fallen off, lost
somewhere in the jumble of debris on the floor. "Can—can we still follow
Gray?"

Mina made a disbelieving sound as she sat in Nemos desk chair. "Even if the
tracer could still get a signal from the nautiloid, we barely have enough engine
power to keep us moving."

"We were faster," Quatermain said. "Now we're a tortoise to his hare."

"Not even a tortoise. We are practically dead in the water," Nemo said.

"So we're… just done?" Jekyll said. "We give up?"

Sawyer took the challenge. "No, we're alive. If M has ideas to the contrary,
that gives us an edge. He shouldn't be making assumptions." He grinned, trying
to rally them. "After all, we're the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, aren't
we? That stands for something."

Captain Nemo, though, was not impressed. "The sea is vast, young man. Even if
the ship could move, Gray— and M—could be out there anywhere."

"Well, I'm an optimist. Maybe that's a crime to you twisted so-and-sos, but
being the way I am keeps me from going crazy." Sawyer looked at Allan
Quatermain, expecting to find support there… but he received none. "We'll figure
out something."

"Your cheerfulness is out of place, Mr. Sawyer," Mina said.

"You're wrong. We
will
get our man—at least I will. Tom Sawyer of
the American Secret Service." A shadow crossed his expression. "You all aren't
the only ones with a grudge, you know. Remember when we first met, the other
agent I told you about? The one who was first assigned to investigate the
Fantom? Well, he was my childhood friend. He and I were agents together, until
that masked madman shot him dead." He wrestled with his emotions, trying not to
get choked up. His freckled face flushed red. "The rest of you may be done, but
I'm not. I swear I'm going to avenge Huck Finn's death."

"But this isn't about any one of us, Tom. Certainly not anymore," Jekyll
said. "It's bigger than that."

"Yes, it is, Mister. The fate of the world is in our hands.
The world!"
Sawyer looked at all the others, wanting to shake them out of their gloom.
"Okay, so Dorian Gray was a traitor. And M tricked you into joining him, and you
walked straight into his trap." Sawyer showed them a determined grin. "But the
way I see it, that was his big mistake… he brought
you—
us
—together."

The League members looked at each other, considering.

"He… he has a point," Jekyll said.

Quatermain cocked a brow at Sawyer, then finally responded with a wan grin of
his own. "And the boy becomes a man. Perhaps a leader of men."

"And women." Mina stood again and smoothed her skirts down. "So now what do
we do?"

First Mate Patel suddenly burst in. "Captain! We're getting a signal! I think
it's from the nautiloid."

"M gloating, no doubt," Nemo said. "He'll want to know if we survived."

Patel shook his head. "I don't believe it's from the Fantom, sir—and not Mr.
Gray either."

Spurred to action, the remaining members of the League rushed to the
Nautilus's
radio room. A communications operator adjusted his
headphones as he jotted down a message on processed kelp paper, one painstaking
letter at a time. The radio apparatus emitted beeps and clicks.

Quatermain recognized the chatter he had heard at numerous African outpost
telegraph stations. "Morse code."

"What's it say?" Mina asked.

The radio operator read all the words he had so far transcribed. "It says,
'Hello my freaky darlings'."

Sawyer and Mina said in unison, "Skinner."

"So the invisible man has joined M's treachery after all," Nemo said.

That didn't make sense to Quatermain, though. He scratched his head. "Maybe…
or maybe not."

The communications operator continued reading off the Morse code message.
"Hiding on board little fish with Gray and M. On way to base. East by North
East. Follow my lead."

"He stowed aboard!" Sawyer said.

Quatermain clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Our ace in the hole. You
were right not to give up hope, lad." The American agent beamed.

"You heard him, Mr. Patel," Nemo said. "Fix our heading at East by North
East. All repair crews get to work on our engines, highest priority. I want this
vessel moving with every ounce of speed the engines can manage, as soon as
possible. Once we begin the chase again, we will make the other repairs while
we're under way." The new first mate rushed off to follow his orders.

As the
Nautilus
floated on the surface of troubled seas, the
re-energized crew worked to repair holes in the hull, reattach armor plates, and
shore up structural braces from the inside decks. But the damaged engines were
the highest priority and underwent an urgent overhaul. Wrecked components were
replaced with spares, pistons and shafts were ground and refitted, oil
reservoirs refilled, and fresh lubricants applied.

On the bridge, Nemo worked alongside the men to rewire circuits and connect
pipes and conduits. Because the entire submarine vessel was of his own design,
the detailed plans remained in his memory. First Mate Patel tested the patched
controls while plotting coordinates.

Mina and Jekyll tended to the severely wounded crewmen, saving many of them,
though several of Nemo's longtime comrades had died. The dead heroes were buried
at sea in a solemn ceremony the following foggy morning at dawn. Nemo allowed
the desperate work to pause for only a few moments before sending the crewmen
back to their tasks.

Inside the sooty and stained engine room, Tom Sawyer lent exuberance, if no
particular expertise, to tightening pipes and fixing gauges, wiping away excess
lumps of fresh sealant, and polishing the equipment to bring it back to a
semblance of the way things had been.

Still, with every instant the nautiloid drew farther and farther
away.

When all the members of the League had gathered in the control room, along
with First Mate Patel and other
Nautilus
crewmen, Quatermain addressed
the group. "Good work. All of you. Captain?"

Standing on the bridge, Nemo activated the controls. The tense and exhausted
engineers and mechanics looked at the captain and at Patel. Then, with a throb
and a hiss, the engines engaged, pumping with an ever-increasing roar until they
reached full power.

Finally, the vessel began to move, straining with the effort. The
Nautilus
crossed many leagues, picking up speed as each additional
repair was completed. The open seas posed no hindrance to the Sword of the
Ocean. Her jagged bow sliced through the waters like a shark in pursuit of
prey.

The map of the ocean inside Nemo's stateroom was partially repaired. Relief
plates of the sea floor and longitude lines shifted to the left as the
Nautilus
traveled further east.

Despite the submarine vessel's rushing speed across the ocean, those aboard
could do little but wait. Some gathered their energies for the coming battle
against the Fantom and his forces; others studied plans, assessing their
options; many could not sleep because of either dread or impatience.

Quatermain retreated to his cabin where he once again pored over issues of
The Strand Magazine
, Scotland Yard crime reports, and even old records
of the first appearance of the real Phantom that had plagued the Paris Opera
House. Obviously, they were different men, but M had taken the other villain as
his model.

Quatermain turned the magazine's pages with the hand of his uninjured arm. On
Nemo's spare gramophone player, he listened intently as a cracked fragment of
his recording replayed over and over. The female recordist's drab voice said,
"Ready, Professor… Ready, Professor… Ready, Professor."

When Nemo entered, Quatermain lifted the needle. He could see immediately
that the captain did not have good news.

"Skinner's signal has stopped," Nemo said. "We no longer have any way to
track them."

Outside, on the ship's observation deck under mockingly sunny skies, Sawyer
stood staring at the horizon, as if hoping to see the distant and still-fleeing
nautiloid.

Mina Harker came up to him in full green skirt and petticoats, with a bright
red scarf wrapped primly around her pale throat. "Thank you," she said.

The young American turned to her, startled. "For what, Ma'am?"

"Your fearlessness." Mina stopped close beside him and looked out at the sea.
"I've lived such a life of sorrow and regret—a long life—that I've always been
rather afraid to step into tomorrow."

Sawyers chest swelled. "Shucks, tomorrows where I live and breathe,
Ma'am."

"Yes. I see it's not so bad a place at all." The
Nautilus
struck a
set of heavy waves, and spray hissed from its bow, but none of the water
droplets splashed them. Mina gripped the rail to steady herself against the
choppy motion.

Sawyer touched her gloved hand with a fingertip. "Hey, if my earlier…
attentions offended you in any way, I'm sorry."

"I am disappointed." Mina smiled up at him again. "I didn't think Americans
gave up so easily."

Sawyer blinked his blue eyes again, liking what he heard.

Off to one side, Allan Quatermain lay in a deck chair beside which he had
stacked his research books and files. Lying in the warm sunlight, the old
adventurer appeared to have dozed off, but as he eavesdropped and watched them
through half-opened eyes, he allowed himself a small grin.

Later, in the thrumming communications room, the radio operator settled his
headphones in place again and continued to adjust the frequency, listening for
the telltale clicks of a coded signal.

Behind him, Nemo waited patiently, silently, watching with his coal-dark
eyes. Quatermain tried to match the captains calm, but found it extremely
difficult.

The radio operator suddenly sat up straight with his full attention. He gave
the communication knobs a delicate twist, then gathered his paper and lead
pencil. He spared only a fraction of his attention to glance back up at the
captain. "It's Mr. Skinner, sir."

Then he began marking the dots and dashes of the Morse code signal,
translating letter by letter. Finally, he read the message. "Sorry. Took a nap.
Sea of Okhotsk. Tartar Strait. Amur River. Mongolia west of Hailar."

Nemo turned to hurry back to his bridge. "Come, Quatermain. We must set a
course."

The engines continued to chug, nursed along by the uneasy engineers. The
propellers drove the armored vessel forward through the waves. They were closing
in.

Quatermain and Nemo surveyed gigantic map books that the dark captain had
compiled over his years of exploration. Nemo's finger traced a line on the
charts. "Our route will take us past the Kuril Islands into the Sea of Okhotsk.
The communal waters of China, Japan, and Russia where many cultures merge and
shift." He stroked his dark beard. "Then south through the Tartar Strait between
Russia and the island of Sakhalin, entering the Amur River at Nikolayev."

Quatermain nodded, following the long and convoluted route. The names sounded
strange and exotic, like the lands and tribes he himself had encountered in
darkest Africa. Many of the places on the map remained mysteries, uncharted
blanks. He almost expected to see the handwritten notation,
Here Be
Monsters
.

Nemo now traced the dark line of a river leading deep into the wildest parts
of East Asia. "The Amur will take us inland to remote Mongolia, which was once
ruled by ruthless Cossacks. Their fortresses still stand as arrogant monuments
to power and cruelty. No doubt, that is where M has built his lair."

"I can hardly wait," Quatermain said. "Let's go."

As silent as a sea monster, the
Nautilus
cruised the water's surface
along far-flung shorelines, past the snowy land masses of Eastern Russia, where
smoky and firelit port towns were visible on the horizon. Small fishing boats
braved leaden, wintry currents and the fog, never noticing the armored vessel
that passed so close.

At first the ports were substantial towns, the last bastions of civilization
on the fringes of the primitive wastes. Seen from the
Nautilus
, the
prominent architecture included Russian spires along with touches of Japanese
influence; a webwork of docks spread out, holding scores of boats.