Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [134]
Without looking up from another news story, his father said, “Dallying with your poetry, and your stories, and your theatre work when you should have been concerned with the law -- you have always been a reckless young man who gets excited about any new scheme. The stock market is nothing different.”
“But this isn’t entirely new, sir. Many in Paris have been successful at it.” He lowered his voice to quash the whining tone. “I know I can do this, Father.”
Then he raised the point he knew would be most convincing to his mother, who would, of course, be one of his primary defenders. “If I get such a position on the stock exchange, I will be seen as a man with a stable career and ambitions. I must have that if I am ever to be . . . married. I am twenty-nine already. You do wish me to get married soon, don’t you, sir?”
Now Pierre Verne folded the paper and sighed. “Your mother certainly does.” He puffed on his cigar in silence and stubbed out the butt in an ashtray.
Verne waited until he could contain himself no longer. “I need to be happy -- nothing less than that, sir.”
His younger brother Paul had gone away to sea and was successful in the French navy. His sisters had both married, and now Jules Verne was the last of his parents’ children still unattached and unfocused.
“Very well,” Pierre Verne said gruffly. “At least it has better prospects than writing those silly plays of yours.”
Overjoyed at his victory, Verne pumped his father’s hand in gratitude. As he thought of the Paris stock exchange and the bustle of well-dressed men buying and selling securities and commodities, Verne knew that he had a very exciting life in store for him.
viii
Even though hostilities had ended in the Crimea, for Nemo and his fellow prisoners the war was never over. Not while Caliph Robur held them captive.
It had taken them only a few days to explore their facilities and take stock of their situation. In their temporary barracks of canvas and piled stone, the boatbuilder Cyrus Harding had spoken in a hushed voice with the metallurgist Liedenbrock as they concocted a possible plan of escape. “We could steal a boat, and I could sail her,” Harding said. “We’d cross the Aegean to Greece.”
“Ach! Why do we not just find another city on the Turkish coast?” Liedenbrock smacked a fist into his palm. “Any place will be better than to remain here in slavery.”
“No, no, no! The guards will stop us,” Conseil said, eavesdropping. “We are in a strange land. None of us could ever pass as Turks.”
Nemo joined the conversation. “Consider how isolated this compound is, men. Far from prying eyes. Robur chose Rurapente well -- the mountains, the deep water, the lack of roads. He is an evil man, I sense, but he is not a fool. Besides, there are almost thirty of us. One or two might slip away, but never the whole group.” He looked at the prisoners, who listened to him intently. “I say we should all help each other. We have no chance if we try to act alone.”
Harding nodded, thrusting out his square, dimpled chin. “Got to agree with you there, Captain.” Surprised, Nemo realized the boatbuilder had used the title as an honorific. It felt . . . right to him.
The German-born metallurgist heaved a heavy sigh. “Ach, even if I am making it back to Sardinia, I will be thrown into the prison again -- unless Caliph Robur intends to give us each a purse of gold when we go.” He gave a bitter laugh.
From what the prisoners had seen thus far, the caliph was not a man to pay for anything he could simply take. The industrial laborers at Rurapente had been recruited from Turkish villages in the Anatolian highlands, probably without the Sultan’s knowledge. Some were slaves, others hostages; a few seemed content with their tasks, which were no more difficult or onerous than any other service for their masters.
By now, Nemo had learned that the industrial complex was capable of producing the finest materials,