Читать книгу Двадцать тысяч лье под водой / Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Жюль Верн, Жуль Верн - Страница 10

I had gotten up from my passably hard mattress when I felt my mind clear. So I began a careful reexamination of our cell.

Nothing had changed in its interior arrangements. The prison was still a prison and its prisoners still prisoners. But the steward had cleared the table. Consequently, nothing indicated any forthcoming improvement in our situation, and I seriously wondered if we were doomed to spend the rest of our lives in this cage.

It was becoming hard for me to breathe. The heavy air was no longer sufficient for my lungs. Although our cell was large, we obviously had used up most of the oxygen it contained.

So it was now urgent to renew the air in our prison, and no doubt the air in this whole underwater boat as well.

How did the commander of this aquatic residence get fresh air? Did he obtain air using chemical methods, releasing the oxygen contained in potassium chlorate by heating it? If so, he would have to keep up some kind of relationship with the shore.

Suddenly I was refreshed by a current of clean air, scented with a salty aroma. It had to be a sea breeze, life-giving and charged with iodine! I opened my mouth wide. This boat, this sheet-iron monster, had obviously just risen to the surface of the ocean. So the ship’s mode of ventilation was finally established.

Ned and Conseil woke up almost simultaneously, under the influence of this reviving air purification. They rubbed their eyes, stretched their arms, and sprang to their feet.

“Did master sleep well?” Conseil asked me.

“Extremely well, my gallant lad,” I replied. “And how about you, Mr. Ned Land?”

“Like a log, professor. But it seems like I’m breathing a sea breeze!”

A seaman couldn’t be wrong on this topic, and I told the Canadian what had gone on while he slept.

“Good!” he said. “That explains perfectly everything. But I’ve no idea what time it is, Professor Aronnax, maybe it’s dinnertime?”

“Dinnertime, my fine harpooner? I’d say at least breakfast time, because we’ve certainly woken up to a new day.”

“Which indicates,” Conseil replied, “that we’ve spent twenty-four hours in slumber.”

“That’s my assessment,” I replied.

“I won’t argue with you,” Ned Land answered. “But dinner or breakfast, that steward will be plenty welcome whether he brings the one or the other.”

“The one and the other,” Conseil said.

“Well,” the Canadian replied. “We deserve two meals.”

“All right, Ned, let’s wait and see!” I replied. “It’s clear that these strangers don’t intend to let us die of hunger.”

“Unless they’re fattening us up!” Ned shot back.

“I object,” I replied. “We have not fallen into the hands of cannibals.”

“Who knows?” the Canadian replied in all seriousness. “Maybe these people have gone without fresh meat for a long while, and in that case three healthy, well-built specimens like the professor, his servant, and me—”

“Get rid of those ideas, Mr. Land,” I answered the harpooner.

“Anyhow,” the harpooner said, “I’m hungry!”

“Mr. Land,” I answered, “we have to adapt to the schedule on board, and I imagine our stomachs are running ahead of the chief cook’s dinner bell.”

“Well then, we’ll adjust our stomachs to the chef’s timetable!” Conseil replied serenely.

“Conseil my friend!” the impatient Canadian shot back. “You’re so calm! You’d starve to death rather than complain!”

“Let’s wait,” I said. “Let’s be guided by events, and let’s do nothing, since right now there’s nothing we can do.”

“On the contrary, professor,” the harpooner replied. “There is something we can do.”

“Oh? And what, Mr. Land?”

“Break out of here![24]”

“Breaking out of a prison on shore is difficult enough, but with an underwater prison, it is completely impossible.”

The harpooner said nothing. Under the conditions in which fate had left us, it was absolutely impossible to escape.

“So, Professor Aronnax,” Ned Land went on after thinking for a few moments, “you haven’t figured out what people do when they can’t escape from their prison?”

“No, my friend.”

“Easy. They kick out all the jailers, guards, and wardens,” Ned Land added.

“What’s this, Ned?” I asked. “You’d seriously consider it?”

“Very seriously,” the Canadian replied.

“It’s impossible.”

“And why is that, sir? Some promising opportunity might come up, and I don’t see what could stop us from taking advantage of it!”

Then our conversation finished, and each of us withdrew into his own thoughts. For my part, I had no faith in those promising opportunities that Ned Land mentioned. Besides, before we could do anything, we had to be free, and that we definitely were not.

Ned Land’s hunger was getting him madder and madder. He stood up, pacing in circles like a wild beast in a cage, striking the walls with his foot and fist. Meanwhile the hours passed, our hunger nagged unmercifully, and this time the steward did not appear.

For two more hours Ned Land’s rage increased. The Canadian shouted and pleaded, but the sheet-iron walls were deaf. I didn’t hear a single sound inside this boat. The vessel had undoubtedly sunk into the watery deep and no longer belonged to the outside world.

A noise was audible outside. The locks were turned, the door opened, and the steward appeared.

Before I could make a single movement to prevent him, the Canadian rushed at the poor man, threw him down, held him by the throat.

Conseil was already trying to loosen the harpooner’s hands from his half-suffocated victim, and I had gone to join him, when I heard these words pronounced in French:

“Calm down, Mr. Land! And you, professor, kindly listen to me!”