That frantic shout of "Iceberg! Big iceberg!" was like a basin of ice water poured over the heads of the passengers on deck.
After a moment of dead silence, panic erupted like a plague!
"God! Iceberg!"
"Where?!"
"Are we going to hit it too?"
"Titanic... No!"
People were in a panic, rushing to the ship's rail, and the scene was chaotic.
Even Lionel, who had just recounted the tragedy, was stunned, his heart sinking:
'It couldn't be such a coincidence, could it?'
Captain Pierre Laforgue of the "Perelle" shouted,
"Clear the way! Everyone, clear the way!"
His face turned ashen as he pushed through the panicked crowd, rushing to the starboard railing.
He looked in the direction pointed to by the passenger, whose face was pale with fright—
In the distance, under the clear sky and scorching sun, there was indeed a large area of dazzling reflection on the sea, and it was clear at a glance that it was not seawater, but ice shards.
More passengers crowded to the ship's rail, craning their necks to look, and fearful shouts rose and fell.
"Look! White!"
"It's an iceberg! So many!"
"We're finished!"
Captain Laforgue ignored the commotion around him.
He quickly raised the binoculars he wore around his neck, adjusted the focus, and looked towards the reflective area.
He watched carefully for dozens of seconds before his taut shoulders gradually relaxed.
He lowered his binoculars, turned around, raised his hands, and shouted loudly:
"Silence! Everyone be quiet!"
The chaotic clamor subsided slightly, and everyone looked nervously at the captain.
Captain Laforgue announced loudly:
"Ladies and gentlemen! Please remain calm! That is not an iceberg, at least not an iceberg that can threaten the 'Perelle'!
It's just an area of drift ice, broken pieces of ice, the largest of which is only a few meters high! They are very far from us and pose no danger to our route!"
He paused, and to make his words more convincing, added some professional knowledge:
"And, please remember, it is October!
The iceberg season in the North Atlantic is from April to June each year! At this time of year, it is impossible for large icebergs to appear in these waters!
Those are just the last remnants that broke off this summer, drifting here with the ocean currents, and they will soon melt and disappear!"
After listening to the captain's calm and powerful explanation, and with some passengers with good eyesight also squinting to confirm that the ice pieces were indeed very small and far away, the atmosphere of panic on deck quickly dissipated.
"So it was drift ice..."
"You scared me to death!"
"It's all because of Mr. Sorel's story..."
"Haha, we scared ourselves!"
People relaxed, began to joke with each other, talking with a sense of relief, as if they had escaped a disaster, about this false alarm caused by the story.
The passenger who first discovered the "iceberg" scratched his head sheepishly amid everyone's laughter and grinned.
The sun shone on everyone's faces; the fear of earlier seemed like an unreal interlude.
At dinnertime, the atmosphere in the dining room was much more relaxed than in previous days, and everyone was still relishing the afternoon's "iceberg scare."
Alphonse Daudet wiped his mouth with a napkin and suddenly looked at Lionel:
"Lionel, seriously, your 'Titanic' story was too scary, making us see icebergs in everything now.
I ask you, do you have many stories about the sea and sailing hidden inside you that you haven't told yet?"
Lionel was cutting the roasted chicken on his plate.
Hearing this, he looked up, paused, and then nodded frankly:
"Indeed, there are still some."
Alphonse Daudet's eyes lit up, and he immediately said:
"In that case, I have a proposal. Tomorrow was supposed to be my turn to tell a story—
But I feel that no matter what I tell, it would probably be hard to match the brilliance of your previous two stories. So, I voluntarily yield my opportunity to you!
As long as you are willing to tell, and as long as it's a story about the sea and sailing, my time is yours!"
As soon as he said this, Maupassant, who was sitting nearby, immediately echoed loudly:
"I agree! Lion, you tell it! My share was given to you long ago!"
In this "story competition," he was the first to "desert."
If a collection of related novels were really published then, and he was the only one of the nine people going to America without a story, how embarrassing would that be?
But if there were others who also didn't leave a story, his embarrassment would be more than halved.
Émile Zola also nodded slowly:
"Lionel's stories indeed always provoke deeper thought in us, and the plots are intricate and moving.
Lion, if you have more stories, my share is also yours."
With Zola's opening, Maupassant was even happier; his embarrassment was now only one-third, and he cast hopeful glances at the others.
Huysmans, Goncourt, and others exchanged glances and also nodded, expressing their willingness to give their story time to Lionel.
On the one hand, having experienced the philosophical reflections of "The Piano Man of the Sea" and the tragedy of the "Titanic," they were all full of anticipation for Lionel's next story;
On the other hand, they themselves lacked experience in maritime life, so the stories they could come up with would hardly be as exciting as Lionel's.
This was unlike "Evening at Médan," where each of them had personally experienced the Franco-Prussian War and could easily find a pile of material.
Lionel looked at his friends' enthusiastic and trusting gazes, pondered for a moment, then smiled and nodded:
"Alright. Since everyone is willing to listen, I will tell a few more."
By evening, the entertainment room was once again packed, and people already knew that Lionel would still be telling the story tonight.
Everyone wanted to hear what kind of nautical story Lionel would bring after romance and destruction.
Lionel once again stepped onto the small stage.
He still took out a silver coin and placed it on the piano music stand.
The pianist "80 years" skillfully took the money and said with a smile,
"Do you need me to play any particular role tonight, Mr. Sorel?"
Lionel also smiled:
"No, tonight you are just Mr. Durand—oh, I should call you '80 years.' Please feel free to play some soothing melodies."
Amidst the gentle piano background music, Lionel began his third story.
"Tonight, I will tell a story about imprisonment, intellect, challenge, and how humanity struggles in extreme solitude.
The protagonist of the story is a passenger on the 'Perelle,' an amateur chess enthusiast, Dr. B..."
"Perelle" again?
The captain was a little nervous and somewhat regretted not telling Lionel that afternoon not to tell stories about shipwrecks anymore.
As Lionel slowly narrated, the outline of the story gradually unfolded—
"During a long voyage, he accidentally learned that a fellow passenger was none other than the world's top chess master, Wilhelm Steinitz."
A low gasp went through the audience; Steinitz's name was well-known even to those who weren't chess fans.
This Austrian, living in London, had defeated all of Europe's top chess players and was widely recognized as the number one chess player.
"...Wilhelm Steinitz easily defeated everyone on board who could play chess...
Encouraged by those around him, Dr. B summoned his courage and played a game against the chess master...
To everyone's surprise, including the master himself, this amateur actually won!"
As Lionel narrated, the secret of Dr. B's superior chess skills was also revealed—
He was originally a nobleman and lawyer, living in the Austrian Empire; but because he exposed a Habsburg family scandal, he was arrested by the secret police;
Thereafter, he was imprisoned in a bare-walled solitary cell, forbidden to communicate with anyone, not even the guards, for a full 20 years.
And a chess book, obtained by chance, became his lifeline—
To maintain his sanity and not go completely mad, day after day, year after year, he played chess against himself, tearing his mind into two dueling individuals...
After being released from prison, to prove whether he could play "a game on a real chessboard, with actual pieces, against a living opponent" like a normal person, he chose to play against Wilhelm Steinitz.
And when Wilhelm Steinitz learned of his experience, in the second game, he chose a cruel way to defeat him: he slowed down the pace, pondered each move for a full ten minutes, and deliberately made moves that were not logical;
All of this made Dr. B increasingly anxious and agitated, finally causing him to relapse into disassociation and mania, only regaining consciousness when reminded by others.
"Dr. B suddenly stood up and said, 'I made a foolish mistake!' He bowed again to Wilhelm Steinitz, 'What I just said was pure nonsense. Needless to say, you won this game.'
Then he turned to all the spectators and said, 'Gentlemen, I must also ask for your forgiveness. Please forgive my disgrace—this is my last attempt at chess.'
With that, he left and never appeared in the card room again for the remainder of the voyage."
The story was finished.
Silence fell over the entertainment room.
Unlike the grand tragedy of the "Titanic," the destruction revealed in this story was internal and silent.
Alphonse Daudet murmured:
"A person in absolute solitude can be forced to unleash such potential, but also pays such a price."
Everyone believed that the core of this story lay in revealing that spiritual solitude is far more terrifying than physical imprisonment.
It might foster astonishing wisdom, but it could also drive a person to the brink of madness.
After a while, a passenger broke the silence:
"Mr. Sorel, your stories are truly wonderful, each one leaves a lasting impression.
However, these three stories you've told are each heavier than the last. The lonely choice of '80 years,' the life-and-death separation on the 'Titanic,' and tonight's chess player's mental torment...
They weigh heavily on our hearts. Tomorrow, could you please tell a lighter story? Something not so distressing."
His words resonated with many present, and everyone nodded, looking at Lionel with anticipation.
Lionel looked at everyone, a smile appearing on his face, and nodded:
"Alright. Tomorrow, I will tell a lighter adventure story."
A satisfied cheer erupted from the crowd.
The next afternoon, the sun was bright, and the sea breeze was gentle.
The entertainment room was packed earlier than ever, and the atmosphere was especially lively.
Lionel took the stage on time, still having "80 years" begin playing first, and then began to narrate:
"This story takes place in the early eighteenth century, in the turbulent Caribbean Sea.
There was a ghost-like pirate ship there, astonishingly fast, like a phantom. Its name was
—the 'Black Pearl'..."
(End of chapter)