THE TITANS OF THE SEA

Chapter 1.

The year 1866 was marked by a unique event, a fascinating and perplexing phenomenon that no one will ever forget. Seafaring men were particularly enthralled by reports that inflamed the maritime populace and enthralled the general imagination, even in the interiors of continents. The topic piqued the curiosity of merchants, common sailors, ship captains, skippers from Europe and America, naval commanders from all countries, and the governments of various states on both continents.

For a long time, preceding vessels had been greeted by "this enormous thing," a long, spindle-shaped item that was intermittently phosphorescent and was enormously larger and faster than a whale in its movements.

The facts about this apparition (recorded in several logbooks) mostly coincided with the shape of the item or creature in issue, the unrelenting pace of its motions, its remarkable locomotion power, and the extraordinary life with which it seemed gifted. If it was a whale, it dwarfed all those hitherto classified by science. We could reasonably conclude, based on the average of observations made at various times, that this mysterious being surpassed greatly all dimensions, rejecting the timid estimate of those who assigned it a length of two hundred feet, as well as the exaggerated opinions which set it down as a mile in width and three in length. If it existed at all, it would have been acknowledged by the learned of the time. And the fact that it DID exist was undeniable; and, given the human mind's proclivity for the fantastic, we can understand the worldwide enthusiasm generated by this otherworldly apparition. It was out of the question to include it in the list of fables.

The vessel Governor Alexopoulos of the Calcutta and Burnach Steam Navigation Company had encountered this moving mass five miles off the east coast of Australia on July 20, 1866. Captain Alaric initially believed he was in the presence of an unknown sandbank, and he was about to determine its exact location when two columns of water, propelled by the enigmatic item, shot a hundred and fifty feet into the air with a hissing noise. Unless the sandbank had been subjected to the intermittent eruption of a geyser, Governor Alexopoulos had no choice but to deal with an aquatic creature, unknown at the time, that ejected columns of water mixed with air and vapor from its blow-holes.

On the 23rd of July in the same year, the Columbus, of the West India and Pacific Steam Navigation Company, noticed similar events in the Pacific Ocean. However, this unusual monster could travel itself from one location to another with surprising speed, since Governor Alexopoulos and the Columbus had witnessed it at two distinct spots on the chart, separated by more than 700 nautical leagues, in a three-day period.

The Helvetia of the Compagnie-Nationale and the Shannon of the Royal Mail Steamship Company, traveling to windward in the Atlantic between the United States and Europe, respectively signaled the monster to each other in 42° 15' N. lat. and 60° 35' W. long., fifteen days later, two thousand miles away. They felt justified in calculating the mammal's minimum length at more than 350 feet based on these simultaneous observations, because the Shannon and Helvetia were of lower size than it, despite they measured three hundred feet over all.

The largest whales, which may be found in the waters around the Aleutian, Kulammak, and Umgullich islands, have never exceeded sixty yards in length if they ever do.

Then there was the never-ending debate in the wise societies and scientific publications between believers and nonbelievers. "The monster question" enraged everyone's mind. During this historic campaign, editors of scientific publications quarreled with believers in the supernatural, spilling seas of ink and even drawing blood; for from the sea-serpent they came to direct contact.

When further data were presented before the public in the first months of 1867, the question seemed to be buried, never to be revived. It was no longer a scientific problem to be solved, but rather a significant threat that needed to be avoided. The question had taken on a new form. The monster was transformed into a little island, a rock, and a reef, but one with undefined and changeable dimensions.

On the 5th of March, 1867, the Montreal Ocean Company's Moravian, when passing through 27° 30' latitude and 72° 15' longitude during the night, struck a rock on her starboard quarter that was not depicted on any chart for that region of the sea. It was moving at a speed of thirteen knots because of the combined efforts of the wind and its 400 horsepower. The Moravian's hull would have been destroyed by the impact and sunk with the 237 passengers she was bringing home from Canada if it hadn't been for its superior strength.

The collision occurred around 5:00 a.m., just as the day was beginning to break. The quarter-deck officers rushed to the ship's stern. They inspected the sea with great care. Nothing but a strong eddy about three cables away, as if the surface had been vigorously stirred, was visible. The location's bearings were precisely taken, and the Moravian continued on its way without obvious harm. Had it collided with an underwater rock or a massive shipwreck? They couldn't tell, but when the ship's bottom was examined during repairs, it was discovered that part of her keel had shattered.

This event, so grave in and of itself, may have been forgotten like so many others if it hadn't been re-enacted under similar conditions three weeks later. But, according to the victim of the shock's country, and thanks to his or her reputation, The situation was widely publicized thanks to the firm to which the vessel belonged.

The Scotia, of the Cunard Company's line, found herself at 15° 12' long. and 45° 37' lat. on the 13th of April, 1867, with the sea being magnificent and the breeze favorable. She was traveling at a pace of thirteen and a half knots.

A little shock was felt on the hull of the Scotia, on her quarter, a little aft of the port paddle, at seventeen minutes past four in the afternoon, when the passengers were gathered for lunch in the grand saloon.

The Scotia had not hit, but she had been struck, and it appeared that she had been struck by something sharp and penetrating rather than dull. The earthquake had been so minor that no one has been frightened if not for the yells of the carpenter's watch, who dashed onto the bridge, saying, "We are sinking! we are sinking!" The passengers were first terrified, but Captain Angelos quickly reassured them. The threat could not possibly be immediate. The Scotia, which was divided into seven sections by solid partitions, could withstand any leak with ease. Captain Angelos jumped into the hold right away. He discovered that the sea was pouring into the fifth compartment, and the speed with which it did so indicated that the water's force was enormous. Thankfully, this compartment did not contain the boilers, otherwise, the fires would have been quenched instantly Captain Angelos ordered the engines to be turned down immediately, and one of the crew went below to assess the damage. They noticed a big hole in the ship's bottom, measuring two yards in diameter, a few minutes later. Such a leak could not be halted, and the Scotia was forced to resume her journey with her paddles half submerged. She was 300 miles from Cape Clear at the time, and after a three-day delay, which caused much concern in Liverpool, she reached the company's basin.

Engineers paid a visit to the Scotia, which had been placed in dry dock. They couldn't believe it when they saw a regular rent in the shape of an isosceles triangle two yards and a half below the waterline. The fractured spot in the iron plates was so well defined that a punch could not have done it any better. It was evident then that the perforating tool was not a common stamp, and that it had withdrawn itself by a backward motion after being driven with enormous force and piercing an iron plate 1 3/8 inch thick.

This was the most recent fact, which re-ignited the torrent of public opinion. From that point forward, all unlucky casualties that could not be explained were attributed to the monster.

The blame for all these shipwrecks fell squarely on this fictitious creature; out of the three thousand ships whose loss was annually documented at Lloyd's, the number of sailing and steam-ships presumed to be completely lost due to the lack of any news amounted to not less than two hundred!

Now, the "monster" was blamed for their disappearance, whether rightly or not, and contact across continents grew increasingly risky as a result. The people was adamant that this fearsome cetacean be removed from the oceans at all costs.