TW05 The Nautilus Sanction NEW by Simon Hawke Read Free Book Online Page A

Zoological Society and members of the faculties of several universities. I should think you’ll be at no loss for stimulating company. As a matter of fact, if you have not yet had time for dinner, I would suggest you hasten to the wardroom, where our passengers are being served at this very moment. Now if you will excuse me, we shall have to continue this discussion at a future time. I must make preparations for getting under way.”
    Verne paused only long enough to check his cabin, which he found he was sharing with someone else judging by the belongings placed there along with his, then proceeded to the wardroom. The other passengers were already sitting down to dinner when he entered. Upon seeing him standing in the doorway, one of the diners stood and beckoned him forward.
    “Ah, I see we have a late arrival,” said the man, speaking with a British accent. He was dressed in tweeds and wore thick wire-rimmed glasses. “Please, there is a place beside me here. You are only just in time.”
    The other diners started to rise, but Verne quickly waved them back down. “No, no, my friends, please, do not get up on my account.”
    He walked over to the seat indicated by the Englishman.
    “Permit me to perform the introductions,” said the Britisher. “This is Dr. Samuelson, of the Smithsonian.” He indicated the man to his immediate left, a dapper, distinguished-looking gentleman with thinning gray hair, horn-rimmed glasses and a moustache. “Dr. Vandenburg, of the Museum of Natural History here in New York.” The man he indicated nodded briefly, gazing out at Verne from beneath large, bushy black eyebrows. There were bread crumbs in his walruslike moustache. “Professor Priest of the University of Maine.” Lucas nodded at him with a smile. “Dr. Delaney of the University of Boston and his associate, Professor Cross; Mr. Ned Land—”
    “Of the university of hard knocks,” said the brawny Land, with a wide grin, his blue eyes glinting with amusement at being included among such distinguished company.
    “And, of course, myself. My name is Devries. Dr. Reginald Fitzhugh Devries, of the Royal Zoological Society.”
    “I am pleased to meet you all,” said Verne, taking his seat. “My name is Verne. Jules Verne. And that would be Mister, not Doctor or Professor, please.”
    Priest and Delaney exchanged quick glances.
    “Ah, yes, the eminent author,” said Samuelson. “I had heard you would be sailing with us. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Verne. Tell me, did those newspapermen outside descend upon you, as well?”
    “I am afraid so,” said Verne. “I attempted to reply to their queries to the best of my limited ability, but I was left with the feeling I had not told them quite what they wished to hear.”
    “What did you tell them?” Devries said.
    Verne sugared his coffee and briefly recapped the interview for their benefit. Samuelson chuckled.
    “What do you want to bet tomorrow’s papers carry drawings of behemoth, horned whales with tusks like woolly mammoths beneath the headline, ‘Eminent Author and Scientist Describes Sea Monster’?”
    Verne looked wounded.
    “Oh, now don’t look that way, Verne. It wasn’t your fault. Newspapermen hear only what they want to hear and they write it up the way they feel their readers will wish to read it.”
    “Never talk to ‘em, myself,” growled Vandenburg.
    “This is most distressing,” Verne said. “I was most careful to say I was only speaking in terms of theory and supposition—”
    “Don’t you worry about it, mate,” said Land. “It’ll all be old news in another week or so and nobody’ll remember it.”
    “Well, what did
you
tell them, Mr. Land?” said Verne.
    Land threw back his head and laughed. “What,
me?
Hell, they didn’t want to talk to me! I’m no scientist fellow like you folks and I’m no famous writer, either. I ain’t important enough for them to bother with.”
    “May one inquire, then, what it is