Free Captain Nemo: The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius by Kevin J. Anderson Page B

People on the docks scattered, much as the sheep had scattered on the highland road.   The carriage rattled across the boardwalk, iron-shod wheels thundering like drumbeats.   At last, Pierre caught sight of a three-masted ship with her sails furled to catch the wind and the outgoing tide.   He saw the markings, the name Coralie , and -- with horror -- realized that sailors were already working to untie the brig from the pier.
    With a rattling clangor, the heavy chains were drawn up into the hawse holes.   The sailors raised the anchor.
     
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    Because Verne and Nemo were both good with figures and arithmetic, Captain Grant had sent them down into the cargo hold with ledger sheets.   After their brief respite that afternoon, the two young men spent hours tediously marking the inventory of everything the Coralie would take along to circumnavigate the globe.
    The larder was filled with 45 fresh hams, 60 slabs of bacon, 71 wax-covered cheeses, and sacks and sacks of flour, cornmeal, coffee beans, sugar, and potatoes.   The diet of salt meats and ship’s biscuit would be relieved by fresh eggs from caged chickens, as well as milk (so long as the cow didn’t go dry from seasickness).   Pigs and goats -- which would eat all sorts of refuse including wood shavings, dirty straw, and even old newspapers -- also provided occasional fresh meat.
    Experienced sailors worked hard with the ropes, lashing crates into spaces and storing barrels of water, beer, and black powder.   Heavy cannon barrels were tied in the lowest decks for ballast, spares in case a cannon should explode during firing.  
    Some of the crew had already noticed that the two cabin boys were favorites of the captain.   Verne hoped the special treatment wouldn’t cause problems later, since he expected to put in his share of hard work.   In theory at least.   He already dreaded the uncomfortable conditions he would have to endure from storm-churned seas or long hot passages in the tropic doldrums.
    At sunset and the outflowing tide, the crew prepared to set off from Paimboeuf and head out to sea at last.   A full moon would light their way, laying a path like molten silver across the calm Atlantic.   Verne had seen the big wall chart in Captain Grant’s quarters.   How many places had the captain seen?   How many did he intend to visit during this voyage?   Verne wanted to do it all.   He just hoped there weren’t too many storms.
    Just as he and Nemo finished their last check, the ship’s bell sounded, signaling departure.   With heavy thumping steps, the ship’s quartermaster climbed down the ladder into the cargo hold.
    The quartermaster was a broad-shouldered Upper Canadian named Ned Land, who had sailed with the English captain on other journeys.   His chest was as broad and as hard as one of the kegs in the larder, and his curly blond hair looked disheveled no matter how often he wetted or greased it down.   His striped shirt had been painstakingly mended with Ned’s own sewing skills during long hours aboard ship.
    In his rough and salty accent, Ned Land had claimed he could bring down seagulls with his rifle when they were only black specks in the sky.   Verne didn’t ask why Ned would want to shoot at seagulls, but he and Nemo expressed appropriate appreciation for the man’s marksmanship.  
    In addition to his duties as quartermaster, Ned also served as the boatswain, sailing master, and Captain Grant’s first lieutenant.   The big Canadian had a blustery good humor and the uncomfortable habit of clapping both Nemo and Verne on the back hard enough to make them think one of the cargo chests had dropped on them.
    “Hark, Jules!   Boy, yer wanted up to the bridge,” Ned bellowed.   “Come too, André Nemo.”
    Puzzled, Verne hoped the captain meant to let them watch as the local pilot guided the Coralie out of the harbor and into the open Atlantic.   They scrambled up the ladders into the last rays of the sunset.