Read Online Captain Nemo: The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius by Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online

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    Seeing Nemo and his red-headed friend, the innkeeper filled two ceramic tankards from a keg behind the counter.   Nemo took them and handed one to his friend.   They clanked their flagons together.   The Verne family drank only French wine, usually diluted -- and the yeasty, hoppy taste weighed on his unsettled stomach.
    The innkeeper gave a cheer as the boys slurped the foam.   “To two lads about to make their fortunes off at sea.”   The innkeeper drank from his own mug, then patted his belly.   A few others at the bar raised their tankards in the toast, but didn’t seem to realize   -- or care -- what they were celebrating.   Around them, the noise continued unabated.
    “I thought our going was supposed to be a secret.”   Verne hunched away from the myriad bloodshot stares directed at him.   He didn’t dare let his father find out.
    “The ship sails at dawn,” Nemo said.   “By the time word can get to your house and wake anybody up, it’ll be too late.”
    Verne took a reflexive swallow of the bitter beer and felt its effects rush to his head.   For years, the two of them had concocted schemes to explore the world and go to the exotic places they read about in books and in illustrated Parisian magazines.   But now it was real -- too real and too soon.
    Panic began to rise within Verne, and he wanted to kick himself.   Nemo rested a hand on his friend’s forearm.   “I told you, you don’t have to go.”
    “I do.   Yes, I have to go.”   Verne repeated it as if to reassure himself.   “I have to go . . . just in case you need rescuing.”
    “All right then.”   Nemo drained his flagon and stood up.   He knew that his red-haired friend would never finish his ale.   “Now we have to go, Jules.   We have an appointment to say goodbye to Caroline.”  
     
    ix
     
    Generations of successful French merchants and shipbuilders had built row houses along the main avenues of Ile Feydeau.   With the glory of Nantes as a great seaport fading, however, the waterside houses now canted like drunken sailors as foundations settled into the watery soil.   Scrolled facades, brick patterns, and ironwork balconies maintained the illusion of splendor.
    “Third floor,” Nemo said, pointing up at a set of shutters high on the whitewashed bricks.   “Second window over.”
    “Are you sure?” Verne said, then rounded on his friend.   “How do you know?”
    “I listen to her play the piano sometimes,” he said casually, not admitting how often he came to talk with Caroline.   “Trust me.”   Nemo bent over to choose a small pebble and tossed it up at the window.   Verne did the same, but his stone missed, clinking against the stone walls.  
    With a flurry at the curtains, Caroline opened the sash and leaned out, dressed in her nightgown.   Seeing the two furtive young men waving at her from the street below, she signaled back and closed the double windows.
    Verne hovered next to Nemo, away from the streetlamp’s blue-yellow gaslight.   He was afraid someone might see them, afraid Caroline’s father would chase them away.   He didn’t want to lose his chance of saying farewell to her.
    When the tall, gold-inlaid door creaked open, Caroline stood there, her honey-on-fire hair tied back with a few colorful ribbons, a hastily donned robe of pink cashmere cinched at her waist.   A forced smile covered her sad expression.
    And in the shadows behind her, Marie fussed about, trying to make the young lady look presentable while scolding her for unacceptable nocturnal activities, especially with two young men far beneath her station.   She thought her mistress should have been looking ahead to a good marriage and fine prospects.   With the significant dowry Monsieur Aronnax could provide, Caroline would have her pick of all the suitable young men in Nantes.
    Caroline shushed her maidservant, though, and stepped out onto the tiled porch, pulling the door shut behind her and leaving