ble
creature, more tadpole than fish, according to Fredol's description.
It is badly formed, the whole of its left side being (if we may say
it), a "failure," and being only able to see with its right eye. But
the formidable troop was nearing us. They had seen the whales and were
preparing to attack them. One could judge beforehand that the
cachalots would be victorious, not only because they were better built
for attack than their inoffensive adversaries, but also because they
could remain longer under water without coming to the surface. There
was only just time to go to the help of the whales. The Nautilus went
under water. Conseil, Ned Land, and I took our places before the
window in the saloon, and Captain Nemo joined the pilot in his cage to
work his apparatus as an engine of destruction. Soon I felt the
beatings of the screw quicken, and our speed increased. The battle
between the cachalots and the whales had already begun when the
Nautilus arrived. They did not at first show any fear at the sight of
this new monster joining in the conflict. But they soon had to guard
against its blows. What a battle! The Nautilus was nothing but a
formidable harpoon, brandished by the hand of its Captain. It hurled
itself against the fleshy mass, passing through from one part to the
other, leaving behind it two quivering halves of the animal. It could
not feel the formidable blows from their tails upon its sides, nor the
shock which it produced itself, much more. One cachalot killed, it ran
at the next, tacked on the spot that it might not miss its prey, going
forwards and backwards, answering to its helm, plunging when the
cetacean dived into the deep waters, coming up with it when it returned
to the surface, striking it front or sideways, cutting or tearing in
all directions and at any pace, piercing it with its terrible spur.
What carnage! What a noise on the surface of the waves! What sharp
hissing, and what snorting peculiar to these enraged animals! In the
midst of these waters, generally so peaceful, their tails made perfect
billows. For one hour this wholesale massacre continued, from which
the cachalots could not escape. Several times ten or twelve united
tried to crush the Nautilus by their weight. From the window we could
see their enormous mouths, studded with tusks, and their formidable
eyes. Ned Land could not contain himself; he threatened and swore at
them. We could feel them clinging to our