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Hull Shape

In hull outline, I lean towards that adopted by Crisafulli, Weir, Premuda, Garcin, Laisney, Kurokama, Williams, Chytil, Gagneaux and others. Ron Miller’s is more attractive but I feel that a sharp spindle shape would have created too many engineering challenges for a pressure vessel; and that a cylinder with tapered conical ends  makes more sense. A Gagneux-type hull is less sleek but more practical, enclosing a given volume more easily.

Ram or Spur

The triangular section ‘iron spur’ is centreline mounted. The Scotia, after all, might have been wallowing about in a troubled sea, and the Nautilus struck her when she was tossed over so that her keel was tilted towards the submarine. I see the ram as very slightly barbed, with three backwards-facing lines of serrations continuing back along the prow.

  Resting on the Bottom

There might be twin keels or strakes on either side of the middle keel, to aid in stability when the Nautilus rests on the bottom of a sea.

  External Diving Hatch

The diving hatch is near the bottom and encloses an airlock. A ladder would be set up externally to provide access to the hatch door, particularly when climbing out of ooze. A guide lamp or lantern above the hatch is an obvious improvement.

  Salon Windows

The salon windows are as placed by others, with sliding covers for protection. The glass panel seems to be a hybrid of a rectangle with semi-circular ends. No sharp corners, as these insult the gods of aquadynamics, aerodynamics, and material strength. 
 

Pilot House Initially, I sketched a diamond shape for the raised pilot house, with twin lenses facing forward, eye-like, protected by a centre ridge-spur on the pilot house itself. However, sealing a complicated shape when retracted is problematic. I applied a forward hinge to allow for retraction in an arc. A trapezoid wedge was tried but the retracting geometry’s a royal pain. I settled for a wedge shape that’s rectangular in plan. The rear surface is curved in a constant radius – it seals at every point in its travel. There is no rear-facing port, which would present sealing difficulties in what would need to be a finely-machined curvature. There’s no dazzling of the helmsman by the lantern searchlight as a result. The pilot house sides each feature a smaller port. It would be easier to cast and seal a glass port to a perfectly flat metal surface. The side seals deal with a flat surface – much easier to seal. I envisage all the house edges having a slight radius. The front panel has the largest port. The lens is flush but protected from ramming damage by small strakes on the pilot house and the hull in front of it. There might be four, though two (one on each edge of the port) might be sufficient. I picture them continuing past the port to the top edge of the pilot house, but no further.

The ship’s wheel and relevant controls must not be as depicted in the de Neuville drawing. It’s a bad rendition, lacking in side portals and various details we know to be there, so it serves as a vague indicator only. I prefer not to have a retractable or moveable ship’s wheel, with resulting complications. In my proposal, the wheel must be below the retracted level of the pilot house forward panel, as must also be the pushbuttons and other instruments. During attack mode, the helmsman must either kneel or sit at his controls.

  Attack Periscope

Since a target warship may be under full steam and moving laterally to the Nautilus, a blind rush might miss it. I considered a ‘vision trench’ and a separate ‘attack peephole’ ahead of the pilot house for when it’s retracted for attack. The heavy forward hinges of the pilot house and its retractor mechanism and seal meant that this was untenable.

I settled on an ‘attack periscope’ with its outlet on the surface of the pilot house, ahead of the main port. The attack periscope port housing is not flush with the pilot house surface but extends proud of it. It too, might be protected by two smaller strakes on either side. When the pilot house is extended for normal navigation, the periscope is detached and stored nearby, next to the instrument binnacle and pushbutton control panel.

During preparations for conflict, the pilot house is retracted and the attack periscope is installed in position. The periscope is fixed in place and does not swivel. As explained above, the helmsman now either kneels or sits at his controls. He can still operate the ship’s wheel with his arms, while his face is pressed close to the periscope lens. It should provide a narrow but adequate view of the target, hence about a 30-degree to 45-degree vision should be designed for. Given the Nautilus’ manoeuvrability, its heading could be adjusted to keep the target centred. Once the submarine is at flank speed (acting as its own torpedo) slight changes in aim can be assisted by gradations inscribed on the periscope eyepiece.

As noted elsewhere, the nautical periscope was around for a decade or so before Verne began his manuscript. Even had he decided that it wasn’t a ‘mature’ enough technology, it must be remembered that Arronax never witnessed the attack configuration of the pilot house. He might well have not noticed the attack periscope stowed away among the controls and instruments.  
 

Lantern and Deck The layout of the deck behind the pilot house has been more or less standardised. There is the hatch; the dingy; and the main hatch; all enclosed by the railings when they are extended. I see the top of the hull as cylindrical but flattened-in slightly to make this deck. A low, raised edge at the railing perimeter seems advisable to protect from wavelets even during a calm sea. There may be inscribed on the hull plates a texture to prevent the crew from slipping on a wet surface. Retractable dingy davits or launching ramp I will leave to the experts; my miniature will not go beyond marking the outline and raised hull-bulge of the tender boat (pinnace?). Retractable fishing net arms may be stowed about here, hinged to allow for a simple extension outwards at about 90-dregrees to the hull centreline. The nets may be broad but shallow, extending sideways from the hull and nowhere near the propeller. The main hatch is rectangular, with similar sealing challenges as the pilot house. As a ventilator, the main hatch may be boosted in efficiency by the use of ducted fans (not depicted by Verne) which would reduce the need to engineer yet another sealed opening. The lantern is easier to deal with than the pilot house. It can be extended to a height clear of the pilot house if desired. I initially designed the lenses in a diamond arrangement, with twin forward-facing lenses but aimed outwards, away from the direct line of the pilot house. One can picture the irritation of the helmsman to see his own pilot house shadow extended out in the direction he wants to go. I revised this scheme to provide for a pentagonal arrangement, with a light-house-like ability to cast a searchlight in almost any direction. Twin searchlight beams facing forward and slightly to the sides are again proposed.

The lantern is mounted on a cylindrical base and therefore much easier to seal. When retracted, the cylinder still seals while the prismatic structure is enclosed within the hull. The top of the lantern may be flush with the deck around it and I see no urgent need to provide a separate cover for it. Yes, the slight depression will create some turbulence but this would not be a consideration during a ramming attack.

There may be an additional lens on the top surface of the lantern, allowing for a vertical shaft of light. If Captain Nemo wanted to exercise his more evil streak, he might operate this vertical searchlight even during an attack. It might keep the warship’s sailors off-balance by serving as a sort of eerie, terror-inspirer; simultaneously showing and hiding the position of the Nautilus.

In similar fashion, the ‘horns of Jericho’ ducted sirens were attached to the undersides of the wings of a Stuka dive bomber. The characteristic howl as the World War II plane dive-bombed was calculated to inspire paralysis and terror among any enemy troops or civilians targeted.

The ‘Blow Nostrils’ and Ballast Vents

The ‘blow nostrils’ make more sense being near the engine room, therefore towards the rear of the boat. I read Stuart Weir’s exceptional paper, and it brought up the subject of the vents or outlets for ballast. Referring to it, they’re visible as a line of ports in the upper hull of the USS Albacore, but seem absent from later nuclear subs. I’ve sketched them in my preliminary design. How do submarines take on or ‘blow ballast’ when the inlets/outlets seem to be missing?

  Propeller and Control Surfaces

Regarding the propeller and the control surfaces of the Nautilus, I can’t see how so many designers ignore the sheer size of the prop. It cannot fit other than on the mid-line of the hull. At first, I was content to have a bottom rudder ahead of the prop then I noticed something that seemingly no one else has. Observe the de Neuville drawing of Nemo showing an elevation of the Nautilus to Arronax. The rudder obviously encompasses the prop and extends behind it. The overall outline mimics the fins on the head of a squid. If you decide that the sub is pointing the other way in the drawing, then we have the problem of an enormous, clumsy, conical (comical?) nose cone.

Nemo is both a naval architect and a marine naturalist and in both of these pursuits, he is clearly inspired by the sea. I see a design reference to a sometimes fast-moving aquatic creature as quite plausible.

At first, my Nautilus elevation design tried to adopt the squid-type fins by not enclosing the propeller but the tail definitely tapers, so my outline sketch is my latest interpretation.

The tail fins also serve to protect the propeller somewhat. I agree a propeller shroud would be even better protection in the case of a ramming attack but it’s not mentioned in the text and where do you draw the line on improvements?

The diving planes I’ve cheated slightly forward of the mid-point of the hull. They’re protected from damage with a fixed leading edge and pivot directly behind it.

  Power and Drive

Obviously, the Goff Nautilus reflected the new-found concern with atomic power and this is totally in line with a Vernian outlook. Electricity was the new wonder energy of the 19^th century and was anticipated with the same optimism and awe as atomic energy was in the first half of the 20^th century. In science fiction, there seemed nothing that either of these forces might not do. High-tension electricity could even produce X-rays and such research led to the discovery of the electron and of radioactivity. Verne reflected this view and anticipated that batteries could be improved to the extent he depicted.

Metallic sodium is too violent for everyday use – as sodium hydroxide (lye) it’s storable but highly corrosive. To overcome the low energy density of electrical batteries, the proposal for a fuel-cell arrangement makes more sense. Its elements need replenishment as per the text.

Similarly, I don’t rule out Low Energy Nuclear Reactions (LENR or ‘cold fusion’). Anomalous amounts of heat are released in LENR not explainable through chemical processes. The LENR catalysts remain and there are other ‘elements’ that require replenishment. Such cells are LENR rather than chemical batteries.

Their heat could be used directly to power a steam turbine to drive the propeller and happily, this parallels a nuclear submarine's ‘atomic kettle.’ A high-speed turbine can be geared down to prop-shaft speeds. The known benefits of steam propulsion were certainly ‘mature’ enough for Verne. Alternately, the steam created by a LENR could drive pistons in a ‘walking beam’ type steam engine to drive the propeller. If you add a step to the LENR process with steam to turbine; to electrical generator; to current switched into electromagnets; then you can have the piston-style, solenoid-based, reciprocating engine drive and Verne can have his lovely gears and levers.

Even more exotic forms are possible. Verne mentions mercury as vital to his power generation, so we might mention the mercury-vortex engines speculated to power several varieties of flying saucer. High electrical energy in a spinning mercury-based fluid is thought to produce field-propulsion and is referenced by alleged contactee George Adamski and – of all things – by the Vimanika Shastra and other ancient Sanskrit documents dealing with the flying ‘vimanas’ of prehistoric India. A torsion physics-based push on a flywheel might be all the drive needed. If old, secret scrolls came into Nemo’s possession when he was still a Northern Indian (Parsee?) prince, well —

If you want to go really wild, there’s always Hans Coler’s device for transducing electrical energy from the quantum vacuum itself. Coler was a German engineer working for the Kriegsmarine during World War II. Speculation exists that his device was incorporated into later U-boats to vastly extend their range for secret missions. Coler and his patents were acquired by the United States Navy in the early postwar period and it may well be that in an unobtrusive corner of the top-secret engine room of a nuclear submarine, there rests a Coler coil. Who knows? If Nemo had stumbled on this Coler principle, it would have been a once-in-a century discovery, with the secret dying with him.

  Attack Method

I believe that the Nautilus’ oeuvre as a weapon rests on her ability to split open a ship’s keel by cutting across it with her upper hull – Goff’s reinforced design wins out here. To whack a ship on her backbone – at her strongest point – is a bit problematic and a high-risk strategy, but that’s the novel we have.

I picture a subtly barbed spur and serrated upper prow ridges (two sides emerging from the initial triangular ram). A full-on ramming is only possible with a wooden ship. Passing through the rigging and between the masts of a sinking ship is also no issue (my impression of that Hildebrand engraving).

However, with an ironclad as the prey, there’s none of this ‘needle through sailcloth’ business. The submarine only ends up embedding itself in the warship’s hull and may make its self-extraction difficult if not impossible. It may even seal up the hole it makes, thus preserving its enemy’s ability to stay afloat. (Such collisions of surface ships have taken place in the 19^th century.) Once an enterprising gunner on deck is able to point a cannon downwards at the helplessly wedged Nautilus, it’s all over for Captain Nemo.

It should be noted again that Prof. Arronax was not an eyewitness of any attack. Nemo tells him that he was satisfied with crippling the Abraham Lincoln’s navigation ability by damaging her propeller(s) and rudder – an attack perfectly within the submarine’s ability to cut athwart the warship’s centreline and inflict damage with a ‘soft’ ramming by using its upper hull.

In any case, ramming anything with a submarine is a bad idea – Nemo should be protecting himself with Mark 48 torpedoes in forward tubes – but again, where do you draw the line on improvements?