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Moments after that pronouncement, the sea monster attacked.

Emerging from the depths, a giant squid darted in front of the Nautilus. The hostile environment had transformed it into a leviathan of incredible proportions. The beast swam backward, pumping its tentacles, attracted by the dazzling lights of the sub-marine boat.

Liedenbrock gasped in alarm. “Ach! Such a brute.”

Verne’s eyes widened as he saw the enormous suckered tentacles thrashing toward them.

Nemo barked an order. “Reverse the propeller screws, Mr. Harding. We must avoid this creature.”

But the Nautilus could not move as fast as the enormous cuttlefish. Its numerous appendages surrounded the vessel like a net. The Nautilus rocked as the tentacles encircled the plated hull in an unbreakable embrace.

“Forward -- now!” With a groan, the sub-marine’s powerful engines pushed them in the opposite direction. But with an abrasive straining sound, the propellers ground to a halt.

Cyrus Harding said, “Tentacles are caught in the screws, Captain. We cannot move.”

The sea beast rocked them like a crocodile trying to shake its prey to pieces. The giant squid’s conical head pressed against the thick portholes, displaying only a cold predatory intent. Its hideous round eyes, larger than serving plates, stared without recognition or intelligence. Verne scrambled away from the thick window with a cry of terror.

Nemo’s brows furrowed with desperate concentration, and he scratched his close-cropped beard. “We must surface, Mr. Harding. We will bring this thing to the light of day. Out in the open air, perhaps it will release us.”

With a clang, the squid raked its sharp, parrotlike beak against the iron-scaled bow, chewing on the metal hull.

“Brace yourselves!” Harding called. Verne grasped the bridge rail with all his strength and squeezed his eyes shut. The ballast tanks were blown, and the vessel began to rise. Nemo watched the external pressure gauges and the depth indicator. “We are rising rapidly.” The creaks and groans of the hull emphasized his words.

Verne hoped that a monster from such depths could not survive at the surface, but he had read old sailors’ tales, accounts of titanic battles between giant squids and sperm whales. He had never desired to see one with his own eyes.

The sub-marine continued to rise for many minutes, and the uncertain light grew brighter as they climbed toward sunlit levels. But the squid refused to relinquish its suckered hold.

As if with a sigh of relief, the Nautilus breached the surface -- yet still the giant squid did not relinquish its hold. The writhing tentacles flexed and tightened, like a python’s grip. One untangled itself and slammed the top of the hull. The battering sounds echoed like explosions within the vessel’s metal walls.

“We must put a stop to this.” Nemo’s jaw clenched until Verne could see his muscles move beneath his dark beard. He looked at his crew. “Take your weapons, men. We will go out and face this monster here and now.”

While Verne hung back, sure he could be no help whatsoever, the Nautilus crewmembers grimly followed their captain’s orders. They secured spears, axes, and long throwing knives; four even carried curved scimitars taken from Robur’s overthrown guards.

Telling Verne to stay clear, Nemo led the way up the metal ladder to the hatch. “Beware of the tentacles. Each one of those suckers has a central hook that can rip your guts out.”

Nemo drew a deep breath -- and threw open the hatch. The men scrambled out, carrying their weapons. Outside, the Atlantic was choppy, and a low, cold mist covered the sky. The giant squid quested with its tentacles like deadly bullwhips.

Nemo jumped onto the outer deck, carrying the jagged spear with which he had killed the hammerhead shark. Cyrus Harding, his dimpled chin thrust forward in determination, set to work with a heavy ax, chopping one of the tentacles. The other crewmen yelled as they attacked -- but the deep-sea creature did not seem to hear.

Two of the squid’s tentacles probed toward Harding,