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The captive engineers had been away from their homelands for so long that they hardly remembered what a normal existence could be like. Few had left families behind, and after so many years their longing for Europe had deadened to a dull ache. Their lives were here, and now, and they had little hope for improvement. They worked on the undersea vessel and devoted their hearts to its completion -- for their own pride, not for their captor’s.

When Caliph Robur returned to Rurapente after a three-week sojourn with the great Sultan, he rode his stallion down to the construction site. As he haughtily studied the incomplete vessel, his expression was not pleased. The warlord’s narrow face twisted, and his skin darkened with rage, highlighting the scar along his cheek. Nemo looked at him and guessed that Robur was losing his continuing political battles against the conservative caliphs in Ankara.

Conseil, the French meteorologist, peeped out from his instrument shack at the end of the docks, noted Robur’s stormy expression, and hid himself again. His bristly hair had grown into a haphazard shock of gray; his hangdog face continued to sunburn regularly despite years in the Turkish heat.

Nemo watched the angry caliph, then climbed away from the skeleton of the undersea boat to face him. For the sake of his men, he had to fend off Robur’s capricious moods. He stood straight-backed in front of the turbaned man on the horse. “As you can see, Caliph,” Nemo said, masking his sarcasm with pride, “we have made substantial progress during your absence.”

The warlord scowled in disgust at the frame of the vessel. He spoke in a loud, sharp voice. “I bear news from Egypt that actual excavation has begun on the Suez Canal. Your French engineer de Lesseps is already digging the channel that will bring the downfall of the Ottoman Empire.” His stallion pranced and snorted, sensing his rider’s rage.

Robur’s mouth twisted, as if he wanted to spit on the ground. “Unfortunately, my Sultan is blind to the implications, and so I must act alone, for his own good. He dismisses my concerns and listens instead to Barbicane and other fools who have no understanding of the new world we live in.” Robur narrowed his dark eyes and stared for a moment at his captive engineers and scientists. “The Sultan thinks we are still fighting against primitive Tatars or Mongols. He does not see the need for my underwater warship.”

Nemo wondered if the caliph would cancel the project now, but knew the arrogant man would never surrender so easily. Perhaps the Sultan had commanded him to free all of his European prisoners -- but Nemo could not hope for that either. He suspected instead that he and his companions would be quietly disposed of, their bodies hidden. His fists clenched at his sides. He would fight with his bare hands, if necessary.

“Therefore, I must prove my vision is superior,” the caliph continued, stroking his sharp black beard. “The Suez Canal must not be completed before we are ready. Your men must work faster and harder.”

Skeptical, Nemo looked back at the construction site. He knew how frantic his men had been laboring in the hope of freedom once their task was completed. Nemo was certain by now that this hope was false. Caliph Robur would never allow the men to return to Europe, where they could reveal what this megalomaniac had done to them. He also knew that a project as massive as the Suez Canal would require years of labor from thousands of people.

But Caliph Robur seemed to think it would be completed overnight. Instead, the warlord thrust a long finger toward Nemo and his men. “You have one year from today to complete this work. If at that time my sub-marine warship is not ready, I will execute one of your men, and then another for every additional month you fail me.”

The men voiced their objections. Nemo stepped forward, angry and defiant. “Sir, that cannot be done. We are already --”

Robur cut him off. “Everything can be done, given sufficient incentive.