Daughter of the Deep(73)

‘What in the –?’ I pick it up gingerly. ‘Captain Nemo invented the keytar?’

Ester laughs. It’s a rare, adorable sound, like a piglet being tickled. She doesn’t often find my jokes amusing (which keeps me humble), but absurdities get her every time. ‘He took his music seriously.’

‘I guess so.’ I study the intricate controls. I remember the way the Nautilus reacted the first time I played the organ on the bridge. This keytar was important enough to hold in the treasury, so it must have a purpose beyond entertainment. I decide to come back later and figure it out. For now, though, I can’t shake the image of Captain Nemo dancing through the corridors of the Nautilus with his keytar, jamming to ‘Little Red Corvette’.

Did that song come out during the Victorian era? Close enough.

I look at Ester, still cradling the box of pearls like it’s a litter of kittens.

The sight gives me a warm sense of satisfaction. ‘At least something good came out of our troubles,’ I tell her. ‘You don’t need your trustees any more. You can rebuild Harding-Pencroft all on your own.’

Ester stiffens. ‘No, I wasn’t …’ She hastily offers me the box of pearls. ‘It’s not my treasure. I would never … I would only do that if you decided –’

‘Ester.’ I push the box gently back to her. ‘I trust you. We’ll figure out the details later, but I can’t imagine a world without Harding-Pencroft Academy. As Prince Dakkar’s descendant and captain of the Nautilus, I ask you to please take this gift. I know you’ll make HP even better than it was. We will, together.’

Her mouth quivers. She blinks back tears. For a moment, I worry I may have misjudged her wishes and given her a burden she didn’t really want.

Then she says, ‘I love you. I’m going to put this under my bunk.’

And off she goes with Top at her heels.

As I stand alone in the treasury, I wonder if Nemo ever worried about his crew walking off with a few hundred million in gold and jewels. I guess not. What would it have mattered to him if they did? The sea gave him everything he needed.

Yet with all his wealth and advanced tech, he still ended his life bitter and defeated. He was so alone he had to trust his legacy to shipwrecked strangers.

He didn’t believe in humanity. He didn’t believe in himself. He tried and failed to change the world – and ended up being written off as a fictional character.

I think about Dev aboard the Aronnax. I remember him telling me he had to destroy HP because it was the only way to take what was rightfully ours: this ship, Nemo’s legacy.

I wish he were here now. I would punch him. Then I would give him a hug. Next I would force him to look at all this wealth and see how pointless it was for Nemo. Absolute power can corrupt anyone. Nemo knew that. In the end, all he could do was bury himself with his sub and his riches and hope that maybe some day human nature would improve to the point where we could handle his power.

And yet here we are, more than a century and a half later, still fighting over the Nautilus like it’s a prized toy in the sandbox.

Someone grunts behind me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turn to find Jupiter waiting for my attention. He looks past me at the room full of treasure. Then he signs, Where did your crew put my muffin pans?

I have to smile. At least orangutans have their priorities straight.

‘Let’s go look,’ I tell him.

We head off in search of real treasure. We can’t use billions in the middle of the Palau Trench, but we can definitely use Jupiter’s blueberry muffins.





Day and night don’t mean much underwater, but I spend the hours until dinnertime checking on my crew around the ship, helping out where I can.

The Nautilus is acting cranky. I suppose she didn’t like being called an antique piece of junk by the crew of a newer submarine, then running from a fight by shooting halfway across the Pacific. I soothe her with compliments and promises that we will get her back in fighting shape, if she’ll just let us work without shocking us or spewing gunk in our faces.

I guess she understands at least some of my submarine-whispering. By day’s end, the Cephalopods have restored basic propulsion. The cav-drive will take longer, but that’s fine by me. I’m not anxious for another test run until we’ve figured out the seat-belt situation.

When we reconvene for our evening meal, everyone seems in a better mood. At this point, each day we stay alive is a win, but we’re also making progress on repairs. Jupiter’s food continues to make our bellies happy. And word has got around about Nemo’s treasury.

I left the vault door open so all the crew members could take a look. I made it clear that if anyone wanted to walk away after we’ve finished repairs, they could do so and become an instant billionaire.

So far, there haven’t been any takers. Everyone seems determined to get the Nautilus in order, return to Lincoln Base, save our friends and defeat the Aronnax. Afterwards (if there is an afterwards) we can figure out how to rebuild HP with our newfound shiny pretties. This doesn’t stop the crew from calling one another billionaires, however. Nelinha is now Billionaire Engineer da Silva, I am Billionaire Captain Dakkar, and Jupiter is the Billionaire Gourmet Orangutan.

I think Nemo might have been wrong about human nature. There are good people in the world. Despite what happened with Dev and Land Institute, despite Harding-Pencroft’s own failures, this crew is made up of people I trust.