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While traveling the world aboard the Nautilus, Aronnax found himself deeply attached to two things. The first thing was the ocean itself – his adopted, temporary home and the element in which he felt most at ease, constantly marveling at each new wonder it revealed, basking in its health and beauty, and every day waking up excited for what was to come.
The second thing was his sketchbook.
It was a trove of wonders. With it, he was able to document the ocean and its magnificence in full detail. What could have been a simple naturalist’s book had bloomed into an archive of secrets and amazing things. He kept it close at hand at all times. It wasn’t that he was possessive of its contents – indeed; he planned on reworking and publishing them at some point. But it was his little book to sketch out things that caught his eye, and so when he flipped through the pages at random and caught sight of an unfamiliar one, he froze.
At first he thought Conseil had made a drawing of his own, mistaking Aronnax’s book for his, as he sometimes did by accident. But no. This was drawn thickly in ink and had none of Conseil’s patient subtlety. Not to mention, it was a fairly crude figure of a man on a boat with what looked like a spear in his hand, aiming it at a frowning whale. And if the mystery still persisted, it was signed at the bottom: “Me versus a whale, by Ned Land.”
Aronnax was at first annoyed and his impulse was to go and ask Ned what the hell he thought he was doing. But after thinking about it for a moment, he decided instead to retaliate.
He quickly sketched a picture of himself on an undersea mountain, waving to the viewer. Pleased with that, he pulled it from the book and went to slide it under Ned and Conseil’s cabin door.
Fifteen minutes later, Ned came in. “Fine art, Professor? Maybe you ought to make one for the Captain’s gallery.”
“Oh, I’ll draw one for him later. But I’m glad you liked it. I have to say, yours has a certain… artistic flair to it.”
“Does it?”
“Oh yes. Very modern. I think it belongs in a New York gallery.”
“Very funny. Well, anyway, yours is hanging in the grand salon where the whole crew can admire it!”
When Aronnax went to check, there it was. Ned’s drawing soon joined it. And then the fight was on. After that, drawings began to litter the walls of the Nautilus. Not only was Pierre’s cabin decorated with depictions of the Daring and Incredible Feats of Mr. Edward Land, but the grand salon and the walls of the museum were as well. Added to this were illustrations from the Fine and Fabulous Adventures of Professor Aronnax and Monsieur Conseil.
And, of course, various illustrations of sea life, Nemo and his crew, and the adventures they’d all gone on.
Nemo’s men took this in stride. That was to say, none of them remarked on the newfound décor or made any sign that they’d taken any notice of it, even when less-than-flattering drawings of them began to appear on the doors to their cabins.
However, even Aronnax had some misgivings when Ned drew a rather ugly picture of Nemo and pasted it on his doorway. Until this point the Captain, like his crew, had remained pointedly aloof about the lovely art of two octopuses eating a bus and the giant rhinoceros (ridden by Conseil himself) trampling the Arc de Triomphe, but Aronnax saw no reason to publicly insult the Captain. Nor drag him into this silliness.
Ned had gone away, amused with himself, and Aronnax tried to quickly and quietly take the drawing down, but to no avail. Nemo came out of his bedroom, saw Aronnax standing there and at once turned to see what had been pasted to his door.
“Captain,” Aronnax stammered. “I am so sorry for this insistence… I’ll remove it at once and you won’t see anything else like this, I promise you.”
Nemo was scrutinizing the image with a serious expression. His eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment Aronnax feared he was dreadfully angry. But when he spoke, his voice was calm. “Actually, I’ve seen worse artistic depictions of me. Although I would say that Mr. Land hasn’t gotten my nose quite right. This was drawn by Mr. Land, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Aronnax replied, looking down at the floor. “I wouldn’t – I would never have thought to draw you, myself, but we’ve been having a bit of fun and Ned decided to go too far with it.”
“I see,” Nemo replied, handing the drawing back. “Well, for what it’s worth, I prefer your art. But you can give this back to Mr. Land when you see him.”
“My art, sir?”
“Yes. The drawing of the narwhal fighting the woolly mammoth – that was yours, was it not?”
“I – yes, sir, it was,” Aronnax said sheepishly. “A bit of frivolity.”
“I liked it. I wondered if you would make me a copy for my quarters.”
Aronnax was shaken – Nemo’s quarters contained little more than a bed, a work desk, the ship’s measuring devices, and a dozen or so solemn and haunting portraits of various martyrs and rebels. Fantastical imagery of warring megafauna would hardly fit the theme. He wondered for a moment if the man was mocking him.
“I suppose I could make one for you, sir.” Aronnax said quietly.
“Very good,” Nemo replied with a smile before turning and walking briskly out, leaving Aronnax wondering what in the hell had just occurred.
A day or so later, he was smoking with Ned and Conseil in the lounge and reading an old newspaper from the Chicago Tribune. Conseil was busy with a sketch for the art war, and Ned was complaining at the top of his lungs.
“Well, I’m about ready to unleash hell on this damned Nautilus! …Didn’t I do it just yesterday?” He shot a sly look at Conseil, making reference to the previous day’s misadventure. Aronnax frowned in remembrance.
“If the ‘hell’ you’re referring to is lobsters, then yes,” Conseil replied.
“For what it’s worth, Ned, I don’t think we ought to antagonize the Captain,” Aronnax said. “He’s shown considerable patience for our restlessness but I don’t know how far he will allow us to push things. The drawings were one thing. But releasing a horde of lobsters into his bedchamber…”
“And he didn’t know it was me!”
“I assume he suspects, Ned. Who else on the ship is going to be setting lobsters loose aboard?”
“Conseil might.”
“I might,” Conseil agreed, placid as always.
“But anyways, Professor, I think you’re too hard on us. Think of it this way – a man can only take so much of being cooped up by a marine tyrant before he starts to commit strange acts. Nemo should count himself lucky he only got pinched by a couple of lobsters – the next time, perhaps, he’ll find a deadly lionfish tucked between his sheets!”
“Lionfish aren’t all that deadly, Ned,” Aronnax replied wearily. “Not every venomous fish is a lethal one. And anyway, if you try to poison the Captain he’s likely to retaliate.”
“We’ll see, then, sir,” Ned said in a low voice, clearly thinking hard. “We’ll just see…”
Nothing happened for the next two days. Aronnax did not spot Captain Nemo anywhere, and Ned and Conseil were pointedly silent about releasing any kind of marine animal onto the ship. Conseil did make one offhand remark about capturing and taming an elephant seal, but that, Aronnax presumed, was a joke. When there was no sign of either the Captain’s anger or any further nonsense, Aronnax began to relax.
Until the day Ned and Conseil came into the museum plainly laughing to themselves. “What did you two do?” Aronnax asked at once.
“Do?” Ned asked innocently, throwing himself down on the couch next to Aronnax. “Professor! I’m offended. I can’t believe you would think so unkindly of me.”
“Really. Because if you two have been bothering the Captain…”
“Bothering? Whose side are you on, here, anyway? No, we weren’t bothering him at all. Far from it. We’ve been… uh…”
“We’ve been livening up his dreary existence with a bit of play,” Conseil said gently. “The man deserves it, doesn’t he, Monsieur?”
“So what did you do?” Aronnax asked again, but he didn’t get a chance to receive an answer before the door opened and Captain Nemo came strolling in.
Aronnax and Conseil stood, bowing to him. Ned remained sprawled on the couch, but he gave the Captain a slight nod.
“Mr. Land. Monsieur Conseil,” the Captain said calmly. “Would either of you gentlemen mind telling me how you managed to get a hold of my entire supply of squid ink?”
Conseil blushed, evidently surprised and a little embarrassed at having been found out so quickly, but Ned just took it in stride. “Was that your entire supply? Why, Captain! Surely a man of your greatness and renown must have had more than a measly ten bottles lying around!”
“I can easily restock. However, ten bottles is more than enough to have been emptied into my sock drawer.”
All three men looked down at the Captain’s feet in unison, but his trousers covered the evidence. “Well, let me know when you get more, Captain,” Ned said. “We’ve still got half the salon to improve upon, you see.”
Nemo nodded soberly and left the room. Aronnax turned to Ned at once. “You destroyed his socks?”
“Not destroyed, Professor, just dyed! He’s plainly still wearing them.”
“It’s all right, Monsieur. I have been keeping an eye on this one,” Conseil said gently, with a fond look at Ned. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bring any harm to your Captain.”
And no harm did come to Nemo. But over the next two weeks he ended up with his organ music in his map drawer, his maps on his newsstand, and his newspapers on his organ. On a few occasions, his dinner was replaced by live sea creatures – starfish, barnacles, and one very surly ghost crab. The polished suit of armor in the museum was found adorned in one of his coats and sea otter caps. The fountain ended up with a variety of shrimp living in it, and most annoyingly to Aronnax, the variety of chemical bottles and wet specimens in the lab had their labels removed and replaced, rendering them all useless. Nemo took all of these in stride, calmly and coolly observing each new event with an expression of either aloof disinterest or just the barest trace of amusement. Both these reactions spurned his tormentors to try harder to get his goat.
There were two times, though, when Conseil stepped in. Once when Ned suggested putting jellyfish stings in Nemo’s trousers, and the other when Ned attempted to poison the entire crew by pouring cone snail venom into the water supply.
“What would happen if you drank cone snail venom, though?” Ned asked later, examining the only bottle that was left untouched by his previous adventures.
“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Aronnax snapped in response.
“Are you still mad about the labels? Look, I told you I can fix those,” Ned said. “Besides, we’re having fun. Conseil’s having fun. Nemo’s having fun even if he’s being a contrary bastard about it. And you’re the only one here with a stick up your ass. Look, we’re prisoners aboard this damned vessel for life. Stop siding with the enemy and help us annoy him.”
“I just think this is a stupid idea. It was funny when we were just putting up our ‘decorations’ but now you’re playing with fire, and I don’t like it,” Aronnax said.
“Nonsense,” Ned said. “Old Nemo wouldn’t do a thing to the King of the Harpooners.”
Ned’s prediction seemed to be accurate. But three days later he came striding into the museum with the brazen swagger that told both Aronnax and Conseil that he’d been up to some mischief.
“What did you do, Ned?” Conseil asked. “You didn’t even include me.”
“I’d like to know, too,” Aronnax sighed. “If only to prepare for the damages.”
“It was a glorious idea, I tell you,” Ned said. “But you’ll have to wait and see. This one’s going to be good.”
So they settled down to wait. Conseil eagerly looking up from his book every few minutes, Aronnax resignedly taking notes, and Ned simply leaning back on a chair, smug and pleased with himself.
However, they were all a bit startled when Nemo came in. At once it was plain to see that whatever Ned had done had actually hit its mark for once, and both Aronnax and Conseil shrank back in fear while Ned sat still, his expression faltering just slightly. The Captain’s eyes blazed with fury and he was quivering with barely-contained rage as he stalked stiffly over to Ned. “Where are they?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
“Where are what?” Ned asked breezily. Aronnax’s mouth was dry and he wanted to give Ned a shove for playing stupid and trying to wind Nemo up further – hadn’t he said that Ned would go too far? And now this!
“You know what.”
“I really don’t,” Ned put his arms behind his head carelessly as if he couldn’t be bothered to even consider. “Enlighten me, O glorious one.”
“The portraits in my room. Where did you put them?”
Ned thought it over. “…Portraits. Oh, the wall of despair! Yes, those portraits. You didn’t like my redecoration?”
Aronnax was looking from one man to the next. Conseil’s face registered nothing but confusion – the professor doubted Conseil even knew what portraits Ned was talking about, let alone where they were now. Ned’s demeanor was relaxed, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye as if he knew precisely what he was doing, and was relishing every bit of it. Nemo was still trembling and seemed on the verge of grabbing Ned by the throat. Aronnax decided to step in.
“Sir –“ he said carefully, flinching when Nemo fixed his eyes on him. “Ned didn’t mean any harm.”
“Did you know about this, Professor?” Nemo asked coldly.
“No, sir. And I don’t know where he’s hidden them. But if you could –“
“Hidden them?” Ned scoffed. “Who says I hid them? I tossed them overboard!”
Nemo froze, going suddenly pale, and Aronnax stared over at Ned in horror.
“But you’ve got plenty, Captain, anyone can see that!” He gestured around the room at the magnificent paintings that adorned the walls. “They ought to be in a museum, but hell. Collect all the private art you want. Just don’t go acting like I’m the bad guy for ridding you of a few crumbs of surplus!”
Nemo looked blankly from Ned to Aronnax. “…Did you really destroy them?” he asked quietly. “You didn’t really… did you?”
Ned’s eyes glimmered for a few long seconds as he measured his thoughts. “Nah,” he said at last, breaking the tension like a wave smoothing roughened sand. “I hid them under the Professor’s bed. I’ll put them up for you if you want.”
“No,” Nemo said, resuming his usual cool politeness, but still seeming shaken. “I can do that,” with that he turned on his heel and walked quickly to his room, shutting the door.
Ned snorted and turned to Pierre, who had a hand over his racing heart. “My God, Ned. What were you thinking? For a minute I thought you’d go over the side of the deck with those paintings! The Captain is not a safe man. You know that. I swear, you’d snatch dinner away from a hungry wolf and taunt him with it.”
“He’s not a sane man, either, if he’s like that about a few extra pictures,” Ned said. “He didn’t even mention my redecoration! I…”
“You what?” Conseil asked.
“I put up all the drawings we’d done of our travels. In place of the old ones. I guess we rank just below a bunch of dead martyrs with him, the old bastard!”
Aronnax chuckled a little, relaxing slowly. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Ned,” he said. “After all, we’re his prisoners, and his stowaways. But after this – “
“Well?”
“After this, please have some discretion. I really don’t want you getting hurt. Like I said, you’re poking a wolf here.”
“Too true, I guess,” Ned said a little somberly. Then he seemed to brighten, and a sly look came over his face. “Say, Professor… you know the man, don’t you? Better than any of us.”
“I know him slightly,” Aronnax replied, coloring a bit. “We have dinner together sometimes. He likes my conversation. Why?”
“Well, if you don’t want me to push him too much… maybe you’ll be able to offer up just the right amount of foolery to keep him guessing, without landing me in the proverbial hot water, what do you think?”
“You’re asking me to join you in your silly childish schoolboy games?”
“Oh, would you, Monsieur?” Conseil said with a grin.
Aronnax looked from one to the other, indignant and feigning crossness. But at last he sighed and gave in. If he fought any more, he’d likely end up on the receiving end of one of these silly jokes. And anyway, someone had to keep the two of them in line. “All right. But we’re not going to mess with is portraits anymore.”
“He’s in!” Ned exclaimed, with a triumphant laugh, and Conseil joined in, putting an arm around Aronnax’s shoulders.
“Welcome to our club, Monsieur.”
Aronnax at last relaxed and smiled at his friends. Then the three of them leaned in close together to plan what they would do next.