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Chapter 3

I form my resolution.

Three seconds before the arrival of JB Hobbson's letter, I know more thought of pursuing the unicorn than of attempting the passage of the North Sea.

Three seconds after reading the letter of the honorable Secretary of Marine,

I felt that my true vocation, the sole end of my life, was to chase this disturbing monster and purge it from the world.

But I had just returned from a fatiguing journey, weary and longing for repose, I aspired to nothing more than again seeing my country, my friends, my little lodging, my dear and precious collections.

But nothing could keep me back. I forgot all, fatigue, friends and collections, and accepted without hesitation the offer of the American government.

Besides, thought I, all roads lead back to Europe, and the unicorn may be amiable enough to hurry me towards the coast of France.

This worthy animal may allow itself to be caught in the seas of Europe, for my particular benefit,

and I will not bring back less than half a yard of his ivory halberd to the Museum of Natural History.

But in the meanwhile, I must seek this narwhal in the North Pacific Ocean, which, to return to France, was taking the road to the Antipodes.

Conce, I called in an impatient voice. Conce was my servant, a true, devoted, flammish boy, who had accompanied me in all my travels. I liked him, and he returned the liking well.

He was quiet by nature, regular from principal zealous from habit, evincing little disturbance at the different surprises of life, very quick with his hands, an apt at any service required of him.

And despite his name, never giving advice, even when asked for it.

Conce had followed me for the last ten years, wherever science led.

Never once did he complain of the length or fatigue of a journey, never make an objection to pack his Pormanto for whatever country it might be, or however far away, the weather China or Congo.

...