The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

THIRTY SIX The Nautilus

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."