• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“All right. Be quick about it,” Pierre said impatiently.

The wagon owner and his mule appeared to be in no hurry, but Pierre scolded both drivers until they set to the task. So great was Pierre’s urgency that even he, dressed in fine business clothes, knelt in the mud and helped use a lever and boulders to lift the cart and replace the wheel. Then, before the farmer could casually pull in front of the brougham, Pierre shouted for the driver to hurry. The horses got up to a gallop again, and the carriage thundered past the rickety cart.

The sun lowered toward the horizon, spilling golden rays in a spectacular Atlantic sunset. Other carts and horses and wagons began to fill the road as they approached Paimboeuf. Monsieur Verne saw dozens of ships on the docks. He didn’t know how he would ever find the Coralie. It might take an hour to talk to the harbormasters and study docking records -- and by that time the ship would have sailed with the outgoing tide.

Instead, he instructed the driver to take the brougham down to the quays. The impatient attorney leaned out the window, questioning sailors. “Where’s the Coralie?” He asked seven times until finally he said, “She’s about to sail. Which one is the Coralie?”

A young seaman with tanned skin and a wispy beard sat on a crate munching an apple. He looked up, unconcerned with Monsieur Verne’s urgency, and gestured down the docks. “Fourth one. You’d better hurry. They’re casting off.”

The driver whipped his horses. People on the docks scattered, much as the sheep had scattered on the highland road. The carriage rattled across the boardwalk, iron-shod wheels thundering like drumbeats. At last, Pierre caught sight of a three-masted ship with her sails furled to catch the wind and the outgoing tide. He saw the markings, the name Coralie, and -- with horror -- realized that sailors were already working to untie the brig from the pier.

With a rattling clangor, the heavy chains were drawn up into the hawse holes. The sailors raised the anchor.

xiii

Because Verne and Nemo were both good with figures and arithmetic, Captain Grant had sent them down into the cargo hold with ledger sheets. After their brief respite that afternoon, the two young men spent hours tediously marking the inventory of everything the Coralie would take along to circumnavigate the globe.

The larder was filled with 45 fresh hams, 60 slabs of bacon, 71 wax-covered cheeses, and sacks and sacks of flour, cornmeal, coffee beans, sugar, and potatoes. The diet of salt meats and ship’s biscuit would be relieved by fresh eggs from caged chickens, as well as milk (so long as the cow didn’t go dry from seasickness). Pigs and goats -- which would eat all sorts of refuse including wood shavings, dirty straw, and even old newspapers -- also provided occasional fresh meat.

Experienced sailors worked hard with the ropes, lashing crates into spaces and storing barrels of water, beer, and black powder. Heavy cannon barrels were tied in the lowest decks for ballast, spares in case a cannon should explode during firing.

Some of the crew had already noticed that the two cabin boys were favorites of the captain. Verne hoped the special treatment wouldn’t cause problems later, since he expected to put in his share of hard work. In theory at least. He already dreaded the uncomfortable conditions he would have to endure from storm-churned seas or long hot passages in the tropic doldrums.

At sunset and the outflowing tide, the crew prepared to set off from Paimboeuf and head out to sea at last. A full moon would light their way, laying a path like molten silver across the calm Atlantic. Verne had seen the big wall chart in Captain Grant’s quarters. How many places had the captain seen? How many did he intend to visit during this voyage? Verne wanted to do it all. He just hoped there weren’t too many storms.

Just as he and Nemo finished their last check, the ship’s bell sounded, signaling departure. With heavy thumping steps, the ship’s quartermaster