Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [46]
Nemo grew excited at the possibilities. He had much to do.
He would soon grow tired of coconut and breadfruit supplemented by seaweed and mussels. He would need to make spears for himself, as well as bows and arrows for hunting, nets for fishing. He had seen goats running wild on the grassy meadows; in time, he might build a corral and domesticate the animals, so he could have a supply of meat and milk.
Nemo paused, still haunted by thoughts of everything he had lost because of the pirate attack and the circling sharks. He missed Captain Grant, not to mention Jules Verne and Caroline Aronnax (he still kept her frayed and faded hair ribbon knotted around his wrist).
It might be years and years until he saw them again. If ever.
#
Back on the beach, Nemo found a broad stream that drained into the ocean. While wading in it, holding a stick for balance, he discovered good sticky clay on the river bottom. Each time he found a new resource such as this, he immediately realized how he might use it. With his hands he scooped out piles of the clay, which he formed into crude bricks. He set them out on the beach to dry hard in the sun.
But that was only a first step, not good enough for what Nemo had in mind. After two days he stacked the bricks and, using more fresh clay as mortar, built a hollow beehive structure with airholes on top: a kiln.
Though many of the salvage items from the crates were proving valuable, he needed to make bowls, jugs, even a plate, since he didn’t want to eat on a slab of rough bark all the time. Since simple dried clay would not be durable enough, he built a low-banked fire of green wood inside the kiln. Next, he shaped more clay into a small pot and a bowl, which he dried, then thrust into the heat and baked over the fire all day long. . . .
Listening to the surf, Nemo crouched at his old beach camp, thinking of how to fix up his new cliffside house. On a wrinkled page from the bound journal, he drew notes and sketches, planning ahead. The beach camp had always been a temporary solution. Now Nemo began to think in a longer term. If he must remain on this island, he wanted a place that would be his home.
When he removed the still-hot bowl and pot from the kiln, he saw that, although his creations lacked finesse and artistic merit, they would serve their purpose well enough. This was merely the first of many accomplishments he was sure to make. Water, food, fire, a home, now clay utensils. Allowing himself a satisfied smile, Nemo reconsidered his situation.
Yes, he could survive on the island for as long as necessary. With enough optimism and imagination, life here might not be so terrible after all.
iii
On a cool morning, Pierre Verne summoned Jules to his law offices, instructing his redheaded son to wait while he finished transcribing a legal document. Two low-paid clerks scribbled in ledgers, transcribing contracts and detailing lists of assets. The sounds of the shipyards drifted through a half-open window, along with an annoying breeze that fluttered documents held down by paperweights.
Verne had no idea why his father had called him here and expected to be scolded for some act of omission or negligence. Inwardly, he groaned. As Jules grew older, Monsieur Verne often brought him into the offices to do small jobs and learn the intricacies of being a country attorney.
Finally, Pierre Verne looked up across his mahogany desk. “I have news for you, Jules.” He took out some recently arrived sheets of paper on which shipping lists had been printed. “Look here.” He pointed to the name of a three-masted brig on the sheet -- the Coralie.
Verne’s heart sank when he saw the heading of the column: Vessels Lost at Sea. Since the Coralie was a British-registered ship and had not originated from Nantes, news of her fate had taken two full years to reach France.
“No known survivors. Since