The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering
by Lady Norbert
---------------
26 December 1899
Boxing Day has found us all a bit deflated after the excitement of the last few days. Everyone slept later than usual today, and I did not see much of anyone until luncheon.
I did receive a very nice note today, which was left on my plate at the noon meal:
Missee Sahib Quatermain,
On behalf of the crew of the Nautilus, I thank you for your generous provision of the holiday dessert. The men and I enjoyed the sweet and are grateful to you for thinking of us. It is our privilege to serve you.
Jaya
I have occupied myself for a little while by cleaning and polishing the locket Skinner gave me, which was somewhat tarnished from years of neglect. I am frankly amazed he was able to keep hold of it all this time. Now that it's clean, I can properly appreciate how pretty it is. I am still somewhat astonished at the gift, and find myself wondering what he means by giving me something which is obviously so important to him. As he says, it was all he had of his mother's; how can he part with it?
Could it possibly be that he...
No. I shan't pursue this line of thinking. I am being absurd. He is my dearest friend, and perhaps I am his dearest friend too, and we may leave it there. Surely there is nothing more to contemplate.
---------------
28 December 1899
Three days left in the century! We have departed the shores of England once again and are making our way to South America. Over last night's dinner, we agreed to travel the length of the Amazon river and see the sights; the jungles of the Amazon are something that none of us have ever visited before, so it will be a new and exciting experience for us all. The region is presently in its rainy season, and the river will be swelling to such a great depth that we can actually take the Nautilus herself down the Amazon without difficulty. Moreover, it is summer there, and the warmth will be a balm to our spirits after the gloom of London fog.
We further decided to observe this truly special New Year in an unusual fashion. Instead of staying up until midnight, as most people do to ring in the new year, we will go to bed earlier than normal. The crew members will awaken us before dawn, and we will all go up to the deck to watch the sun rise on the year 1900 -- a once-in-a-lifetime event.
---------------
30 December 1899
Things are, much as it surprises me to say so, slightly dull around here just now. For lack of any better amusement, I spent a large portion of the day in the library. I was delighted to discover that Nemo's collection includes almost all of Shakespeare's works, and entertained myself a great deal by reading Much Ado About Nothing aloud. I need hardly add that I was alone for the performance. At least, I think I was; one can never be completely certain of that with Skinner around.
Much Ado is possibly my favourite of the plays, if only because Benedick and Beatrice get such marvellous lines. The best one belongs to Benedick: "I do love nothing in the world so well as you." I always sigh when I read it.
---------------
31 December 1899
We make our way south, and I'm still suffering from mild ennui. Tom and I played chess for a little while today, but on the whole, the most remarkable thing about the day is that it is the last time I will date a diary entry in 1899. As of tomorrow, I must start writing "1900." How strange that will be!
Things seem quite usual between Skinner and myself, so I believe I must have been mistaken in my thoughts about his Christmas gift. The delusions of a hopeless romantic, I suppose. Indeed, it's probably for the best that I was wrong.
So then why do I feel vaguely disappointed?
---------------
1 January 1900
Behold, the dawning of a new age!
I'm not precisely certain at what time the knock came to wake me, but I heard Mina call my name before she opened the door. "Elizabeth, it's time," she said, seeing that I was awake.
I dressed as swiftly as I could, leaving my hair braided, and wrapped myself in a blue cloak. Climbing the ladder, I joined the League; the crew members were assembled in rank formation along the length of the fully-raised submarine, all eyes on the horizon.
Nemo gave us each a glass of wine, the last of the Athens vintage, and we waited. The sky grew progressively lighter, changing from inky black to midnight blue to a deep purple. I looked around at my friends. We all stood at the rail, as close to the actual sunrise as we possibly could. Henry was at the farthest end from myself, his arm around Mina's waist; then Nemo, looking expectant. Tom stood to my left, his boyish face reflecting the pre-dawn light, and to my right was Skinner, leaning against the railing so that though his face was pointed toward the horizon, his body was turned toward the rest of us.
A faint line of red appeared on the ocean. Slowly, very slowly, this expanded into a brighter, larger band of red-orange. A brilliant flaming sunrise cast its rays upon us all.
Nemo took a step back from the rail and raised his glass. "To the twentieth century," he said in his deep, serious voice, and we all lifted our glasses to his and repeated the words. The wine was strong and sweet.
We all stood there for a long time, watching the morning grow brighter and brighter. Gradually the crew returned to their tasks, and one by one, my friends withdrew and went below to prepare for the day. After the sun was fully risen, only Skinner, Tom and I remained on the deck.
"So," said Tom, still watching the sun's ascent, "any New Year's resolutions, folks?"
Inspiration struck me, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I resolve," I said teasingly, "to be more extraordinary in the coming year, so I fit in better with this company."
"Funny," said Skinner, lightly, "I'm resolving to be a little more ordinary, if I can manage it." He was thinking of the cure, I don't doubt. Tom and I turned to look at him.
"Skinner," said Tom, "you couldn't be ordinary if you tried."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Tom." We laughed together, the three of us, and went to join the others for breakfast.
It's quite usual for people to have yet another lavish party on New Year's Day, but after all the celebrations of the past few weeks, I believe we are all a bit worn out. Perhaps next year we will have one, hoping as I do that we will all still be together this time next year.
---------------
4 January 1900
It is a bit difficult to remember to write 1900 on my diary pages now. Never before have I (nor anyone else now living) known a year which did not begin with the number 18, and it's a hard habit to break.
Today we held council as to exactly what our plans are once we reach South America, which should be in a matter of days. Nemo is feeling quite ambitious, as it turns out, for he has a great expedition in mind: He wishes to go in search of the lost cities of the Incas.
The Incas were a native civilization in South America, rather savage from what I have learned of them -- they required blood sacrifices to their gods. They were conquered by Spanish invaders in the sixteenth century. According to legend, what remained of their people pulled back into a region called the Vilcabamba Valley. Two cities of theirs are known to have existed -- Machu Picchu and Choquequirau -- but no outside explorers have ever located them.
Nemo, as is his wont, has been studying maps and manuscripts related to the area, and he believes he has pinpointed the approximate location of the sister cities. We will follow the Amazon through Brazil and into Peru, to almost its very end. "We will enter the site from the south," he said. "I have found no record of anyone else ever attempting this. From the Apurimac River, we will climb up a steep mountain, the Cordillera Vilcabamba. It is densely forested and difficult to traverse, but I think we can do it. We will be the ones who rediscover the lost cities of the Incas."
I think Father would have loved this plan.
---------------
6 January 1900
Today was the Epiphany, also called the twelfth day of Christmas, which meant that we were busy most of the day with the removal of the holiday decorations. The large majority of these were, of course, comprised of foliage and could be tossed harmlessly into the ocean. The Christmas tree trimmings and stockings were packed away for next year, as was my wooden Nativity.
I've been doing a bit of reading in the past few days, to try and learn something about where we're headed and who the Incas really were. Much of the truth about this race remains unknown, because they had no method of keeping a written history; they relied primarily on oral tradition and on a detailed system of knotted strings, called quipu. No one knows how to interpret the knots of the quipu, however. Even less is known about Machu Picchu and Choquequirau. From what I have read, scholars surmise that the cities were not commonly used even by the Incas, which is probably why the Spanish conquerors completely overlooked them. They were, it is thought, strictly reserved for the use of the Incan royalty and nobility.
Information about the Amazon river is more readily available. The Amazon and the Nile are the two longest rivers in the world, that is certain, but great debate rages over which is the longer. For a while, the Amazon was known as the Rio Grande, the 'great river,' but it was ultimately named the Amazon in about 1541. That was when an explorer from Spain, Captain Francisco de Orellana, faced the Incas in a bloody battle; the women fought as hard as the men, and it prompted him to remember the Amazon women warriors of mythology. He named the river, therefore, in their honour.
We can expect incredibly humid and wet weather throughout our river journey. If it grows too unbearable while we are still on the Nautilus, that will not be difficult -- we may simply remain below, where Nemo manages by some ingenuity to control the climate at all times. Once we leave the ship for the actual exploration, however, it will become more troublesome. The heat in Egypt was oppressive enough, but in Brazil and Peru we will have to face the humidity as well. I am sorting through my garments to find the lightest, thinnest cottons and linens; modesty will permit me to abandon neither corset nor petticoat, so I must be as careful as I can to avoid becoming ill.
---------------
9 January 1900
Today we entered the Amazon! The rains have already swelled the river sufficiently that the Nautilus was able to submerge almost completely. We went up to the deck, which remained above the water level, and watched as we slowly sailed into the jungles. Henry, sensibly, retained some of the insect repellent he had acquired in Egypt, and we must use this liberally whenever we are outdoors; the danger of malaria is as present here as it was on the Nile.
The trees are thick and lush. Already I have spotted a number of curious birds, including great scarlet parrots and blue-and-gold macaws. I believe I even caught a fleeting glimpse of a jaguar darting through the underbrush. It is, of course, incredibly and stiflingly hot, but we will get used to it presently, I hope. Amazonia is, on the whole, quite excessively gorgeous.
My hair has been utterly uncooperative in this humidity, so rather than attempting to tame it into a braid or pin it up, I have simply left it down. Mina does the same thing, and her hair is longer than mine, but mine is more unruly owing to the curl.
---------------
11 January 1900
The Amazon is truly a most amazing place. I find myself wishing my father were here to see it.
From what Nemo told us over breakfast, it should take us the rest of January to navigate the Amazon down to its source, the Apurimac River. The mountain where he believes the lost cities of the Incas are hidden is not far from there; we will visit the ancient city of Cuzco before attempting to climb the mountain, for which we will need mules. All told, we should probably not expect to be back aboard the Nautilus before the end of February.
Part of the reason the Amazon trek will take so long is because we are proceeding very slowly, so as not to upset the locals or the wildlife. Of the former we have seen little sign; houses are erected here and there along the river, high on stilts to protect their residents from flooding, but very few actual persons have been spotted. Perhaps the frequent rains are part of the problem, for indeed they've kept us inside a fair bit.
The latter is an entirely different story, as the rain does not completely interfere with our ability to observe the animals. Down in the very lowest portion of the submarine, above the engine rooms but below everything else, the Nautilus is fitted with great glass windows which allow us to look out into the waters of the Amazon and view the different creatures which live there. We have spotted electric eels, freshwater sharks, and many of those horrible flesh-eating fish called piranha. One animal we have not seen yet, but that I hope to before the journey is over, is the Boto -- the shy pink dolphin native to the river.
---------------
13 January 1900
Today we reached the mouth of the Jari River, one of the many tributaries along the Amazon. Some of Nemo's men went ashore, for we spotted a great supply of Brazil nuts growing from trees near the water, and they harvested a bundle. There are many edible plants in the jungle such as this, though for the most part we will leave the native foliage alone; the people here need such foodstuffs on which to survive, and we have plenty of supplies for our own use.
During one of the intervals between showers, when we were able to enjoy some time on the deck, we saw a pair of great otters gambolling in the water behind the submarine. They dove and surfaced, paddling on their backs and chasing each other around in the churning foam. It was altogether delightful to watch.
by Lady Norbert
26 December 1899
Boxing Day has found us all a bit deflated after the excitement of the last few days. Everyone slept later than usual today, and I did not see much of anyone until luncheon.
I did receive a very nice note today, which was left on my plate at the noon meal:
Missee Sahib Quatermain,
On behalf of the crew of the Nautilus, I thank you for your generous provision of the holiday dessert. The men and I enjoyed the sweet and are grateful to you for thinking of us. It is our privilege to serve you.
Jaya
I have occupied myself for a little while by cleaning and polishing the locket Skinner gave me, which was somewhat tarnished from years of neglect. I am frankly amazed he was able to keep hold of it all this time. Now that it's clean, I can properly appreciate how pretty it is. I am still somewhat astonished at the gift, and find myself wondering what he means by giving me something which is obviously so important to him. As he says, it was all he had of his mother's; how can he part with it?
Could it possibly be that he...
No. I shan't pursue this line of thinking. I am being absurd. He is my dearest friend, and perhaps I am his dearest friend too, and we may leave it there. Surely there is nothing more to contemplate.
28 December 1899
Three days left in the century! We have departed the shores of England once again and are making our way to South America. Over last night's dinner, we agreed to travel the length of the Amazon river and see the sights; the jungles of the Amazon are something that none of us have ever visited before, so it will be a new and exciting experience for us all. The region is presently in its rainy season, and the river will be swelling to such a great depth that we can actually take the Nautilus herself down the Amazon without difficulty. Moreover, it is summer there, and the warmth will be a balm to our spirits after the gloom of London fog.
We further decided to observe this truly special New Year in an unusual fashion. Instead of staying up until midnight, as most people do to ring in the new year, we will go to bed earlier than normal. The crew members will awaken us before dawn, and we will all go up to the deck to watch the sun rise on the year 1900 -- a once-in-a-lifetime event.
30 December 1899
Things are, much as it surprises me to say so, slightly dull around here just now. For lack of any better amusement, I spent a large portion of the day in the library. I was delighted to discover that Nemo's collection includes almost all of Shakespeare's works, and entertained myself a great deal by reading Much Ado About Nothing aloud. I need hardly add that I was alone for the performance. At least, I think I was; one can never be completely certain of that with Skinner around.
Much Ado is possibly my favourite of the plays, if only because Benedick and Beatrice get such marvellous lines. The best one belongs to Benedick: "I do love nothing in the world so well as you." I always sigh when I read it.
31 December 1899
We make our way south, and I'm still suffering from mild ennui. Tom and I played chess for a little while today, but on the whole, the most remarkable thing about the day is that it is the last time I will date a diary entry in 1899. As of tomorrow, I must start writing "1900." How strange that will be!
Things seem quite usual between Skinner and myself, so I believe I must have been mistaken in my thoughts about his Christmas gift. The delusions of a hopeless romantic, I suppose. Indeed, it's probably for the best that I was wrong.
So then why do I feel vaguely disappointed?
1 January 1900
Behold, the dawning of a new age!
I'm not precisely certain at what time the knock came to wake me, but I heard Mina call my name before she opened the door. "Elizabeth, it's time," she said, seeing that I was awake.
I dressed as swiftly as I could, leaving my hair braided, and wrapped myself in a blue cloak. Climbing the ladder, I joined the League; the crew members were assembled in rank formation along the length of the fully-raised submarine, all eyes on the horizon.
Nemo gave us each a glass of wine, the last of the Athens vintage, and we waited. The sky grew progressively lighter, changing from inky black to midnight blue to a deep purple. I looked around at my friends. We all stood at the rail, as close to the actual sunrise as we possibly could. Henry was at the farthest end from myself, his arm around Mina's waist; then Nemo, looking expectant. Tom stood to my left, his boyish face reflecting the pre-dawn light, and to my right was Skinner, leaning against the railing so that though his face was pointed toward the horizon, his body was turned toward the rest of us.
A faint line of red appeared on the ocean. Slowly, very slowly, this expanded into a brighter, larger band of red-orange. A brilliant flaming sunrise cast its rays upon us all.
Nemo took a step back from the rail and raised his glass. "To the twentieth century," he said in his deep, serious voice, and we all lifted our glasses to his and repeated the words. The wine was strong and sweet.
We all stood there for a long time, watching the morning grow brighter and brighter. Gradually the crew returned to their tasks, and one by one, my friends withdrew and went below to prepare for the day. After the sun was fully risen, only Skinner, Tom and I remained on the deck.
"So," said Tom, still watching the sun's ascent, "any New Year's resolutions, folks?"
Inspiration struck me, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I resolve," I said teasingly, "to be more extraordinary in the coming year, so I fit in better with this company."
"Funny," said Skinner, lightly, "I'm resolving to be a little more ordinary, if I can manage it." He was thinking of the cure, I don't doubt. Tom and I turned to look at him.
"Skinner," said Tom, "you couldn't be ordinary if you tried."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Tom." We laughed together, the three of us, and went to join the others for breakfast.
It's quite usual for people to have yet another lavish party on New Year's Day, but after all the celebrations of the past few weeks, I believe we are all a bit worn out. Perhaps next year we will have one, hoping as I do that we will all still be together this time next year.
4 January 1900
It is a bit difficult to remember to write 1900 on my diary pages now. Never before have I (nor anyone else now living) known a year which did not begin with the number 18, and it's a hard habit to break.
Today we held council as to exactly what our plans are once we reach South America, which should be in a matter of days. Nemo is feeling quite ambitious, as it turns out, for he has a great expedition in mind: He wishes to go in search of the lost cities of the Incas.
The Incas were a native civilization in South America, rather savage from what I have learned of them -- they required blood sacrifices to their gods. They were conquered by Spanish invaders in the sixteenth century. According to legend, what remained of their people pulled back into a region called the Vilcabamba Valley. Two cities of theirs are known to have existed -- Machu Picchu and Choquequirau -- but no outside explorers have ever located them.
Nemo, as is his wont, has been studying maps and manuscripts related to the area, and he believes he has pinpointed the approximate location of the sister cities. We will follow the Amazon through Brazil and into Peru, to almost its very end. "We will enter the site from the south," he said. "I have found no record of anyone else ever attempting this. From the Apurimac River, we will climb up a steep mountain, the Cordillera Vilcabamba. It is densely forested and difficult to traverse, but I think we can do it. We will be the ones who rediscover the lost cities of the Incas."
I think Father would have loved this plan.
6 January 1900
Today was the Epiphany, also called the twelfth day of Christmas, which meant that we were busy most of the day with the removal of the holiday decorations. The large majority of these were, of course, comprised of foliage and could be tossed harmlessly into the ocean. The Christmas tree trimmings and stockings were packed away for next year, as was my wooden Nativity.
I've been doing a bit of reading in the past few days, to try and learn something about where we're headed and who the Incas really were. Much of the truth about this race remains unknown, because they had no method of keeping a written history; they relied primarily on oral tradition and on a detailed system of knotted strings, called quipu. No one knows how to interpret the knots of the quipu, however. Even less is known about Machu Picchu and Choquequirau. From what I have read, scholars surmise that the cities were not commonly used even by the Incas, which is probably why the Spanish conquerors completely overlooked them. They were, it is thought, strictly reserved for the use of the Incan royalty and nobility.
Information about the Amazon river is more readily available. The Amazon and the Nile are the two longest rivers in the world, that is certain, but great debate rages over which is the longer. For a while, the Amazon was known as the Rio Grande, the 'great river,' but it was ultimately named the Amazon in about 1541. That was when an explorer from Spain, Captain Francisco de Orellana, faced the Incas in a bloody battle; the women fought as hard as the men, and it prompted him to remember the Amazon women warriors of mythology. He named the river, therefore, in their honour.
We can expect incredibly humid and wet weather throughout our river journey. If it grows too unbearable while we are still on the Nautilus, that will not be difficult -- we may simply remain below, where Nemo manages by some ingenuity to control the climate at all times. Once we leave the ship for the actual exploration, however, it will become more troublesome. The heat in Egypt was oppressive enough, but in Brazil and Peru we will have to face the humidity as well. I am sorting through my garments to find the lightest, thinnest cottons and linens; modesty will permit me to abandon neither corset nor petticoat, so I must be as careful as I can to avoid becoming ill.
9 January 1900
Today we entered the Amazon! The rains have already swelled the river sufficiently that the Nautilus was able to submerge almost completely. We went up to the deck, which remained above the water level, and watched as we slowly sailed into the jungles. Henry, sensibly, retained some of the insect repellent he had acquired in Egypt, and we must use this liberally whenever we are outdoors; the danger of malaria is as present here as it was on the Nile.
The trees are thick and lush. Already I have spotted a number of curious birds, including great scarlet parrots and blue-and-gold macaws. I believe I even caught a fleeting glimpse of a jaguar darting through the underbrush. It is, of course, incredibly and stiflingly hot, but we will get used to it presently, I hope. Amazonia is, on the whole, quite excessively gorgeous.
My hair has been utterly uncooperative in this humidity, so rather than attempting to tame it into a braid or pin it up, I have simply left it down. Mina does the same thing, and her hair is longer than mine, but mine is more unruly owing to the curl.
11 January 1900
The Amazon is truly a most amazing place. I find myself wishing my father were here to see it.
From what Nemo told us over breakfast, it should take us the rest of January to navigate the Amazon down to its source, the Apurimac River. The mountain where he believes the lost cities of the Incas are hidden is not far from there; we will visit the ancient city of Cuzco before attempting to climb the mountain, for which we will need mules. All told, we should probably not expect to be back aboard the Nautilus before the end of February.
Part of the reason the Amazon trek will take so long is because we are proceeding very slowly, so as not to upset the locals or the wildlife. Of the former we have seen little sign; houses are erected here and there along the river, high on stilts to protect their residents from flooding, but very few actual persons have been spotted. Perhaps the frequent rains are part of the problem, for indeed they've kept us inside a fair bit.
The latter is an entirely different story, as the rain does not completely interfere with our ability to observe the animals. Down in the very lowest portion of the submarine, above the engine rooms but below everything else, the Nautilus is fitted with great glass windows which allow us to look out into the waters of the Amazon and view the different creatures which live there. We have spotted electric eels, freshwater sharks, and many of those horrible flesh-eating fish called piranha. One animal we have not seen yet, but that I hope to before the journey is over, is the Boto -- the shy pink dolphin native to the river.
13 January 1900
Today we reached the mouth of the Jari River, one of the many tributaries along the Amazon. Some of Nemo's men went ashore, for we spotted a great supply of Brazil nuts growing from trees near the water, and they harvested a bundle. There are many edible plants in the jungle such as this, though for the most part we will leave the native foliage alone; the people here need such foodstuffs on which to survive, and we have plenty of supplies for our own use.
During one of the intervals between showers, when we were able to enjoy some time on the deck, we saw a pair of great otters gambolling in the water behind the submarine. They dove and surfaced, paddling on their backs and chasing each other around in the churning foam. It was altogether delightful to watch.