James Palmer - Shadows Through Time

“Hunting?” Burton thought they must have surfaced near a remote island plentiful with game. The thought of seeing the sun again thrilled him more than he thought possible. “Hunting where?”

“In a kelp forest,” said Nemo. “I told you everything that is consumed upon this vessel is harvested from the ocean. This is how it is done. Come.”

Nemo marched up a corridor and down a familiar set of stairs to the rear of the vessel, where a formidable-looking hatch stood, surrounded by a row of lockers fronted by a long wooden bench bolted to the floor. Four large brass helmets sat on the bench, brightly gleaming in the electric light shining from above.

“This entire region is rich in flounder, halibut, grouper, anchovies and cod,” said Nemo. “We come here often.”

“Are you saying we are going to walk around outside the Nautilus ?” said Herbert.

“Precisely,” said Nemo. “My crew will help outfit you.”

As if on command, three blue-garbed men entered the area and opened the lockers, pulling out heavy canvas and oilskin suits and large, heavy-looking boots. Burton hefted one of them and discovered the soles were filled with lead. “To keep from floating away.”

“Yes, Captain Burton,” said Nemo, as he pulled on his own diving suit with practiced ease.

Removing his jacket, Burton allowed Nemo’s men to assist him in shrugging on the thick, heavy suit and watched them as they tightened the complex series of buckles and straps around the arms, ankles, and chest of the rig. Without removing his boots, they helped him push his feet down into the heavy boots, adjusting and tightening more seals.

Burton hoped the ocean water would act to keep him cool, as the suit’s heavy material was stifling hot. He looked around at Challenger and Herbert, who were being similarly outfitted. “Where is Miss Marsh?”

“She might join us later.” Nemo now stood before them fully dressed save for his helmet. He brandished a lethal-looking harpoon gun in his thick-gloved hands. “Now, I have a few more instructions. Please listen carefully. We will not be able to communicate with one another outside through our helmets. The Nautilus will provide exterior lighting for our activities, but it will still be very dark. We will be attached to the Nautilus by air hoses, but please, stay close together.”

Burton, now gloved, was handed a harpoon gun. He stared at it, trying to become familiar with its workings. Though quite proficient in most classes of weaponry, he had never used such a device. It appeared straightforward enough, but he worried about the water being too murky to hit anything with any real accuracy.

Burton watched as Captain Nemo put on his helmet, his attendants lowering it slowly and over his head and twisting it clockwise until it clicked. A helmet went over Burton’s head and was snapped into place. “Remember to breathe normally,” said his attendant.

Nemo looked out at them all through a thick circle of glass. He turned heavily in his boots as one of the attendants opened a sealed hatchway, allowing the captain inside.

“Follow the Captain, please,” the attendant said, his voice muffled by the thick brass of the helmet.

Burton lurched forward, moving slowly in the heavy boots. Normal breathing was difficult, the suit and helmet hot, confining. He tried a Sufi meditation technique, which seemed to help calm his nerves somewhat, at least for the time being.

“What now?” Burton said.

“Air lock,” came Herbert’s muffled reply. “We’re going into a sealed room. Water will be pumped in. When the pressure equals that of the ocean at this depth, an outer door will open, and we will walk where only Captain Nemo has walked before.”

Burton stepped into the small room, and two of Nemo’s crew began fiddling with his helmet. Glancing at Challenger’s suited form through the thick porthole in his helmet, Burton realized they were being fitting with air hoses. Cool, fresh air flowed into Burton’s helmet, relieving some of his claustrophobia.

Once everyone’s air hoses were in place, the attendants scrambled from the room and sealed the hatch behind them. Almost immediately, it began filling with cold ocean water. Burton could feel it move over his boots to the legs of the suit. The sensation was strange, like taking a bath with one’s clothes on and remaining dry, but not unpleasant. It rose over their heads in seconds.

Burton watched Nemo with great attention. The other man’s gaze was fixed on some gauge set into the wall. When the room reached the requisite ocean pressure, Nemo twisted open the outer hatch and opened the door. The pressure was perfectly balanced, keeping them all from being sucked out into the muck surrounding the Nautilus , which had set down on the seabed.

Captain Nemo raised his left arm, motioning them forward, and stepped out, followed by Challenger, then Burton and Herbert. Burton’s lead-booted feet sank heavily into the mire, but he found he was able to move a bit more easily underwater.

The lights of the Nautilus stabbed through the gloom, illuminating a vast kelp forest in the distance. Long vines of the stuff rose up toward the ocean’s surface in neat green rows. Wan shafts of sunlight shown down from high above, revealing the occasional shrimp and several specimens of some strange, feathered starfish undulating through the gloom. Captain Nemo held his harpoon gun in a ready position, and Burton aped his movements, keeping a wary eye out for any fish that might be hiding in the thick cluster of vegetation.

They moved slowly toward the forest, their boots churning up the muck. Burton felt something move frantically beneath his right foot and bent downward just in time to see some sort of ray flapping its wing-like fins in its hurry to get away.

The area teemed with life. Tiny crabs moved sidewise through the depths, and stranger creatures swam through the water. A thing that looked like palm fronds writhed in a shaft of light above him, moving toward some distant bundle of kelp, and Burton was struck by how much animals resembled plants and plants resembled animals down here.

Captain Nemo suddenly changed direction. Instead of going straight into the kelp forest, he veered to the right of its boundary, hoisting his harpoon gun to his shoulder as if taking aim to fire. Burton looked, but could see nothing ahead of Nemo but mud-churned darkness. A hand wrapped itself around Burton’s helmet and pulled him in close. It banged against someone else’s, and he heard a muffled voice say, “Can you hear me?”

“Y-yes,” said Burton. “Challenger? But how?”

“The vibration of our voices is conducted through the contact between our helmets. Do you see where Nemo is headed?”

“No.”

“You don’t see them?”

“No!” said Burton again, annoyed. “See what?”

“The ruins.”

Twisting out of Challenger’s grasp, Burton peered into the gloom. As his eyes adjusted to the waning light, short columns of square black stones stood along the bottom, jutting from the muck like rotting teeth. Nemo appeared to be inspecting these, though he kept up his guard.

Challenger’s helmet barked against Burton’s once more.

“I don’t think we’re on a fishing expedition.”

“Nor do I,” Burton agreed. “Someone should tell Herbert.”

“I will,” said Challenger. Burton looked out after Captain Nemo. A second later, Challenger’s helmet struck his once more.

“Herbert’s gone.”

“Where the devil is he?” said Burton. “He couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Let’s follow his air hose.” Challenger pushed away from Burton and moved past the explorer in the direction Nemo had gone. He found Herbert’s air hose and began following it, bobbing up and down as he moved through the thick muck covering the ocean bottom. Burton trailed him, using his free hand to clear the water before him of debris. A tiny seahorse danced in front of him, oblivious to his presence. The explorer gently swatted the tiny creature away and continued.