“That’s indeed considerable,” I said. “But you must admit that certain cetaceans do grow to significant size, since they’re said to supply as much as 120 metric tons of oil.” “That I’ve seen,” the Canadian said. “I can easily believe it, Ned, just as I can believe that certain baleen whales equal 100 elephants in bulk. Imagine the impact of such a mass if it were launched at full speed!” “Is it true,” Conseil asked, “that they can sink ships?” “Ships? I doubt it,” I replied. “However, they say that in 1820, right in these southern seas, a baleen whale rushed at the Essex and pushed it backward at a speed of four meters per second. Its stern was flooded, and the Essex went down fast.” Ned looked at me with a bantering expression. “Speaking for myself,” he said, “I once got walloped by a whale’s tail—in my longboat, needless to say. My companions and I were launched to an altitude of six meters. But next to the professor’s whale, mine was just a baby.” “Do these animals live a long time?” Conseil asked. “A thousand years,” the Canadian replied without hesitation. “And how, Ned,” I asked, “do you know that’s so?” “Because people say so.” “And why do people say so?” “Because people know so.” “No, Ned! People don’t know so, they suppose so, and here’s the logic with which they back up their beliefs. When fishermen first hunted whales 400 years ago, these animals grew to bigger sizes than they do today. Reasonably enough, it’s assumed that today’s whales are smaller because they haven’t had time to reach their full growth. That’s why the Count de Buffon’s encyclopedia says that cetaceans can live, and even must live, for a thousand years. You understand?” Ned Land didn’t understand. He no longer even heard me. That baleen whale kept coming closer. His eyes devoured it. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “It’s not just one whale, it’s ten, twenty, a whole gam! And I can’t do a thing! I’m tied hand and foot!” “But Ned my friend,” Conseil said, “why not ask Captain Nemo for permission to hunt—” Before Conseil could finish his sentence, Ned Land scooted down the hatch and ran to look for the captain. A few moments later, the two of them reappeared on the platform. Captain Nemo observed the herd of cetaceans cavorting on the waters a mile from the Nautilus. “They’re southern right whales,” he said. “There goes the fortune of a whole whaling fleet.” “Well, sir,” the Canadian asked, “couldn’t I hunt them, just so I don’t forget my old harpooning trade?” “Hunt them? What for?” Captain Nemo replied. “Simply to destroy them? We have no use for whale oil on this ship.” “But, sir,” the Canadian went on, “in the Red Sea you authorized us to chase a dugong!”