Читать книгу 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea - Жюль Верн, Жуль Верн - Страница 13

I do not know how long our sleep lasted, but it must have been a long time, for it rested us completely from our fatigues. I awoke first. My companions had not yet moved.

I had scarcely risen from my rather hard couch when I felt all my faculties clear, and looked about me.

Nothing was changed in the room. The prison was still a prison, and the prisoners prisoners. The steward, profiting by our sleep, had cleared the supper things away. Nothing indicated an approaching change in our position, and I asked myself seriously if we were destined to live indefinitely in that cage.

This prospect seemed to me the more painful, because, though my head was clear, my chest was oppressed. The heavy air weighed upon my lungs. We had evidently consumed the larger part of the oxygen the cell contained, although it was large. One man consumes in one hour the oxygen contained in 176 pints of air, and this air, then loaded with an almost equal quantity of carbonic acid, becomes unbearable.

It was, therefore, urgent to renew the atmosphere of our prison, and most likely that of the submarine boat also. Thereupon a question came into my head, ‘How did the commander of this floating dwelling manage? Did he obtain air by chemical means, by evolving the heat of oxygen contained in chlorate of potassium, and by absorbing the carbonic acid with caustic potassium? In that case he must have kept up some relations with land in order to procure the materials necessary to this operation. Did he confine himself simply to storing up air under great pressure in reservoirs, and then let it out according to the needs of his crew? Perhaps. Or did he use the more convenient, economical, and consequently more probable means of contenting himself with returning to breathe on the surface of the water like a cetacean, and of renewing for twenty-four hours his provision of atmosphere? Whatever his method might be, it seemed to me prudent to employ it without delay.

I was reduced to multiplying my respirations to extract from our cell the small quantity of oxygen it contained, when, suddenly, I was refreshed by a current of fresh air, loaded with saline odours. It was a sea breeze, life-giving, and charged with iodine. I opened my mouth wide, and my lungs became saturated with fresh particles. At the same time I felt the boat roll, and the iron-plated monster had evidently just ascended to the surface of the ocean to breathe like the whales. When I had breathed fully, I looked for the ventilator which had brought us the beneficent breeze, and, before long, found it.

I was making these observations when my two companions awoke nearly at the same time, doubtless through the influence of the reviving air. They rubbed their eyes, stretched themselves, and were on foot instantly.

‘Did monsieur sleep well?’ Conseil asked me, with his usual politeness.

‘Very well. And you, Land?’

‘Soundly, Mr Professor. But if I am not mistaken, I am breathing a sea breeze.’

A seaman could not be mistaken in that, and I told the Canadian what had happened while he was asleep.

‘That accounts for the roarings we heard when the supposed narwhal was in sight of the Abraham Lincoln.’

‘Yes, Mr Land, that is its breathing.’

‘I have not the least idea what time it can be, M. Aronnax, unless it be dinner-time.’

‘Dinner time, Ned? Say breakfast time at least, for we have certainly slept something like twenty-four hours.’

‘I will not contradict you,’ answered Ned Land, ‘but dinner or breakfast, the steward would be welcome. I wish he would bring one or the other.’

‘The one and the other,’ said Conseil.

‘Certainly,’ answered the Canadian, ‘we have right to two meals, and, for my own part, I shall do honour to both.’

‘Well, Ned, we must wait,’ I answered. ‘It is evident that those two men had no intention of leaving us to die of hunger, for in that case there would have been no reason to give us dinner yesterday.’

‘Unless it is to fatten us!’ answered Ned.

‘I protest,’ I answered. ‘We have not fallen into the hands of cannibals.’

‘One swallow does not make a summer,’ answered the Canadian seriously. ‘Who knows if those fellows have not been long deprived of fresh meat, and in that case these healthy and well-constituted individuals like the professor, his servant, and me—’

‘Drive away such ideas, Land,’ I answered, ‘and above all do not act upon them to get into a rage with our hosts, for that would only make the situation worse.’

‘Any way,’ said the harpooner, ‘I am devilishly hungry, and, dinner or breakfast, the meal does not arrive!’

‘Land,’ I replied, ‘we must conform to the rule of the vessel, and I suppose that our stomachs are in advance of the steward’s bell.’

‘Well, then, we must put them right,’ answered Conseil tranquilly.

‘That is just like you, Conseil,’ answered the impatient Canadian. ‘You do not use up your bile or your nerves! Always calm, you would be capable of saying your grace before your Benedicite, and of dying of hunger before you complained.’

‘What is the use of complaining?’ asked Conseil.

‘It does one good to complain! It is something. And if these pirates – I say pirates not to vex the professor, who does not like to hear them called cannibals – and if these pirates think that they are going to keep me in this cage where I am stifled without hearing how I can swear, they are mistaken. Come, M. Aronnax, speak frankly. Do you think they will keep us long in this iron box?’

‘To tell you the truth, I know no more about it than you, friend Land.’

‘But what do you think about it?’

‘I think that hazard has made us masters of an important secret. If it is in the interest of the crew of this submarine vessel to keep it, and if this interest is of more consequence than the life of three men, I believe our existence to be in great danger. In the contrary case, on the first opportunity, the monster who has swallowed us will send us back to the world inhabited by our fellow men.’

‘Unless he enrols us amongst his crew,’ said Conseil, ‘and he keeps us thus—’

‘Until some frigate,’ replied Ned Land, ‘more rapid or more skilful than the Abraham Lincoln, masters this nest of plunderers, and sends its crew and us to breathe our last at the end of his mainyard.’

‘Well reasoned, Mr Land,’ I replied. ‘But I believe no proposition of the sort has yet been made to us, so it is useless to discuss what we should do in that case. I repeat, we must wait, take counsel of circumstances, and do nothing, as there is nothing to do.’

‘On the contrary, Mr Professor,’ answered the harpooner, who would not give up his point, ‘we must do something.’

‘What, then?’

‘Escape.’

‘To escape from a terrestrial prison is often difficult, but from a submarine prison, that seems to me quite impracticable.’

‘Come, friend Ned,’ said Conseil, ‘what have you to say to master’s objection? I do not believe an American is ever at the end of his resources.’

The harpooner, visibly embarrassed, was silent, a flight under the conditions hazard had imposed upon us was absolutely impossible. But a Canadian is half a Frenchman, and Ned Land showed it by his answer.

‘Then, M. Aronnax,’ he said, after some minutes’ reflection, ‘you do not guess what men ought to do who cannot escape from prison?’

‘No, my friend.’

‘It is very simple; they must make their arrangements to stop in it.’

‘I should think so, said Conseil; ‘it is much better to be inside than on the top or underneath.’

‘But after you have thrown your jailers and keepers out?’ added Ned Land.

‘What, Ned? You seriously think of seizing this vessel?’

‘Quite seriously,’ answered the Canadian.

‘It is impossible.’

‘How so, sir? A favourable chance may occur, and I do not see what could prevent us profiting by it. If there are twenty men on board this machine they will not frighten two Frenchmen and a Canadian, I suppose.’

It was better to admit the proposition of the harpooner than to discuss it. So I contented myself with answering, –

‘Let such circumstances come, Mr Land, and we will see. But until they do I beg of you to contain your impatience. We can only act by stratagem, and you will not make yourself master of favourable chances by getting in a rage. Promise me, therefore, that you will accept the situation without too much anger.’

‘I promise you, professor,’ answered Ned Land in a not very assuring tone; ‘not a violent word shall leave my mouth, not an angry movement shall betray me, not even if we are not waited upon at table with desirable regularity.’

‘I have your word, Ned,’ I answered.

Then the conversation was suspended, and each of us began to reflect on his own account. I acknowledge that, for my own part, and notwithstanding the assurance of the harpooner, I kept no illusion. I did not admit the probability of the favourable occasions of which Ned Land had spoken. To be so well worked, the submarine boat must have a numerous crew, and consequently, in case of a struggle, we should have to do with numbers too great. Besides, before aught else, we must be free, and we were not. I did not even see any means of leaving this iron cell so hermetically closed. And should the strange commander of the boat have a secret to keep – which appeared at least probable – he would not allow us freedom of movement on board. Now, would he get rid of us by violence, or would he throw us upon some corner of earth? All that was the unknown. All these hypotheses seemed to me extremely plausible, and one must be a harpooner to hope to conquer liberty again.

I understood, though, that Ned Land should get more exasperated with the thoughts that took possession of his brain. I heard him swearing in a gruff undertone, and saw his looks again become threatening. He rose, moved about like a wild beast in a cage, and struck the wall with his fist and foot. Moreover, time was going, hunger was cruelly felt, and this time the steward did not appear. If they had really good intentions towards us they had too long forgotten our shipwrecked condition.

Ned Land, tormented by the twinges of his robust stomach, became more and more enraged, and notwithstanding his promise I really feared an explosion when he would again be in the presence of the men on board.

Two more hours rolled on, and Ned’s anger increased; he cried and called at the top of his voice, but in vain. The iron walls were deaf. The boat seemed quite still. The silence became quite oppressive.

I dare no longer think how long our abandonment and isolation in this cell might last. The hopes that I had conceived after our interview with the commander of the vessel vanished one by one. The gentle look of this man, the generous expression of his face, the nobility of his carriage, all disappeared from my memory. I again saw this enigmatical personage such as he must necessarily be, pitiless and cruel. I felt him to be outside the pale of humanity, inaccessible to all sentiment of pity, the implacable enemy of his fellow men, to whom he had vowed imperishable hatred.

But was this man going, then, to let us perish from inanition, shut up in this narrow prison, given up to the horrible temptations to which ferocious famine leads? This frightful thought took a terrible intensity in my mind, and imagination helping, I felt myself invaded by unreasoning fear. Conseil remained calm. Ned was roaring. At that moment a noise was heard outside. Steps clanged on the metal slabs. The bolts were withdrawn, the door opened, the steward appeared.

Before I could make a movement to prevent him, the Canadian had rushed upon the unfortunate fellow, knocked him down, and fastened on his throat. The steward was choking under his powerful hand.

Conseil was trying to rescue his half-suffocated victim from the hands of the harpooner, and I was going to join my efforts to his, when, suddenly, I was riveted to my place by these words, spoken in French: –

‘Calm yourself, Mr Land, and you, professor, please to listen to me.’