against the chamber wall, back and forth, shrieking and howling,
agonized as the metamorphosis wracked his body. The band around his neck snapped
clean off, and he broke the remaining shackle on his left wrist. But escape was
the last thing on his mind at the moment.
Hyde fell to the floor, still flailing in his fearsome seizure. None of the
others approached him, wary for their lives.
Little by little Edward Hyde shrank into a smaller person. His coarse, unruly
hair and thick black nails receded until finally, the beast was entirely gone.
Another man lay there on the deck, awash in the monster's sour sweat.
"At least he fits those clothes better now," the invisible man pointed out,
unhelpfully.
Shaking with weakness and personal misery, the scrawny stranger arose,
blinking his nervous, saucer-wide eyes. He was a slight man who easily slipped
his entire hand out of Hyde's wrist shackles, leaving the torn chains on the
floor. His ashen face reflected his ordeal. His large Adam's apple bobbed up and
down as he gulped.
"Henry Jekyll, at your service. And I would very much like to earn my pardon
and return to London." He swallowed hard. "May I have a glass of water,
please?"
"So the League is set," Quatermain said when the seven members gathered later
inside the plush parlor of the submarine boat. Nemo had offered them all
yellowish homemade cigars fashioned from a rare nicotine-containing seaweed.
Quatermain drew a long puff, expecting to dislike the cigar, but found it rather
pleasant. "Now we can finally be about our work."
Hearing a chatter of machinery, Nemo went to tear an incoming ticker tape
from a wall unit. He skimmed down the punched words. "And so is the time and
precise location for the conference. We have three days."
"Three days to get all the way to Italy? Goodness!" said Tom Sawyer. "Can
this canoe do it?"
"Do not underestimate the
Nautilus
." Nemo went to stare out at the
swirling undersea view. The ship cut through the waters at incredible speed, her
long, lean lines demonstrating the accuracy of her nickname, Sword of the
Ocean.
FOURTEEN
The
Nautilus
The League gathered in the amazing vessel's conning tower as the submarine
boat cruised the surface of the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal. A white wake
curled from the bow as the beautifully ornamented vessel glided ahead. The salty
air was as refreshing as the bright daylight.
"This is a whole lot different from riding a paddle-boat," Tom Sawyer
said.
Beside him, the famous hunter cleaned his big elephant gun in silence. Sawyer
watched him, unable to keep silent. "So, you named your gun, Mr.
Quatermain?"
"Matilda."
"Who's Matilda?" The young agent seemed eager for conversation. "Somebody
special?"
"My gun." The old hunter sighted the gun out to sea, past where Mina Harker
and Dorian Gray stood together on the far side of the
Nautilus's
deck.
Gray smiled curiously as he looked at the woman in her formal blue dress,
white scarf, and long gloves, all of which were certainly inappropriate for
standing outside on the open deck of a submarine vessel racing across the water.
He had witnessed the terrible changes in her, knew the demonic creature that
lurked half-hidden beneath her perfect exterior. Just like himself. He edged
closer. "Mina—rediscovering you… Ah, the mullahs of Arabia would call it
kismet."
Mina did not find the moment quite so magical. "Don't get any ideas, Dorian.
Our past is just and only that."
"Did I hurt you so?" His thin patrician lips formed a pained expression,
which had no effect on the pale, beautiful woman.
"Don't flatter yourself. Until M mentioned your name, I'd all but forgotten
you existed." She sniffed. "You were always strange, Dorian. Until the incident
in your library, watching you riddled with bullets and remaining completely
unaffected… I just didn't realize
how
strange."
"Strange? I prefer 'timeless."
"At least your appearance finally makes sense to me.
agonized as the metamorphosis wracked his body. The band around his neck snapped
clean off, and he broke the remaining shackle on his left wrist. But escape was
the last thing on his mind at the moment.
Hyde fell to the floor, still flailing in his fearsome seizure. None of the
others approached him, wary for their lives.
Little by little Edward Hyde shrank into a smaller person. His coarse, unruly
hair and thick black nails receded until finally, the beast was entirely gone.
Another man lay there on the deck, awash in the monster's sour sweat.
"At least he fits those clothes better now," the invisible man pointed out,
unhelpfully.
Shaking with weakness and personal misery, the scrawny stranger arose,
blinking his nervous, saucer-wide eyes. He was a slight man who easily slipped
his entire hand out of Hyde's wrist shackles, leaving the torn chains on the
floor. His ashen face reflected his ordeal. His large Adam's apple bobbed up and
down as he gulped.
"Henry Jekyll, at your service. And I would very much like to earn my pardon
and return to London." He swallowed hard. "May I have a glass of water,
please?"
"So the League is set," Quatermain said when the seven members gathered later
inside the plush parlor of the submarine boat. Nemo had offered them all
yellowish homemade cigars fashioned from a rare nicotine-containing seaweed.
Quatermain drew a long puff, expecting to dislike the cigar, but found it rather
pleasant. "Now we can finally be about our work."
Hearing a chatter of machinery, Nemo went to tear an incoming ticker tape
from a wall unit. He skimmed down the punched words. "And so is the time and
precise location for the conference. We have three days."
"Three days to get all the way to Italy? Goodness!" said Tom Sawyer. "Can
this canoe do it?"
"Do not underestimate the
Nautilus
." Nemo went to stare out at the
swirling undersea view. The ship cut through the waters at incredible speed, her
long, lean lines demonstrating the accuracy of her nickname, Sword of the
Ocean.
FOURTEEN
The
Nautilus
The League gathered in the amazing vessel's conning tower as the submarine
boat cruised the surface of the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal. A white wake
curled from the bow as the beautifully ornamented vessel glided ahead. The salty
air was as refreshing as the bright daylight.
"This is a whole lot different from riding a paddle-boat," Tom Sawyer
said.
Beside him, the famous hunter cleaned his big elephant gun in silence. Sawyer
watched him, unable to keep silent. "So, you named your gun, Mr.
Quatermain?"
"Matilda."
"Who's Matilda?" The young agent seemed eager for conversation. "Somebody
special?"
"My gun." The old hunter sighted the gun out to sea, past where Mina Harker
and Dorian Gray stood together on the far side of the
Nautilus's
deck.
Gray smiled curiously as he looked at the woman in her formal blue dress,
white scarf, and long gloves, all of which were certainly inappropriate for
standing outside on the open deck of a submarine vessel racing across the water.
He had witnessed the terrible changes in her, knew the demonic creature that
lurked half-hidden beneath her perfect exterior. Just like himself. He edged
closer. "Mina—rediscovering you… Ah, the mullahs of Arabia would call it
kismet."
Mina did not find the moment quite so magical. "Don't get any ideas, Dorian.
Our past is just and only that."
"Did I hurt you so?" His thin patrician lips formed a pained expression,
which had no effect on the pale, beautiful woman.
"Don't flatter yourself. Until M mentioned your name, I'd all but forgotten
you existed." She sniffed. "You were always strange, Dorian. Until the incident
in your library, watching you riddled with bullets and remaining completely
unaffected… I just didn't realize
how
strange."
"Strange? I prefer 'timeless."
"At least your appearance finally makes sense to me.
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