“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!”
Chapter 10
It was the ship’s commander who had just spoken. At these words Ned Land stood up quickly. In silence we waited for the outcome of this scene; Conseil seemed almost fascinated, I was stunned.
Arms crossed, leaning against a corner of the table, the commander studied us with great care. Did he regret those words he had just pronounced in French? You would have thought so.
“Gentlemen,” he said in a calm, penetrating voice, “I speak French, English, German, and Latin with equal fluency. Hence I could have answered you as early as our initial interview, but first I wanted to make your acquaintance. Your four versions of the same narrative established your personal identities for me. Now I know you: Professor Pierre Aronnax, specialist in natural history at the Paris Museum and entrusted with a scientific mission abroad, his servant Conseil, and Ned Land, a harpooner of Canadian origin aboard the Abraham Lincoln, a frigate in the national navy of the United States of America.”
I bowed in agreement. The commander hadn’t put a question to me. This man expressed himself with perfect ease and without a trace of an accent. His words were well chosen.
He went on:
“I had great difficulty deciding to talk to you. I am the man who has cut himself off from humanity. Your coming has disrupted my whole existence.”
“Unintentionally,” I said.
“Unintentionally?” the stranger replied, raising his voice a little. “Was it unintentionally that the Abraham Lincoln hunted me on every sea? Was it unintentionally that you traveled aboard that frigate? Was it unintentionally that Mr. Ned Land hit me with his harpoon?”
I detected a controlled irritation in these words.
“Sir,” I said, “you’re surely unaware of the discussions that have taken place in Europe and America with yourself as the subject. You don’t realize that various accidents, caused by collisions with your underwater machine, have aroused public passions on those two continents. We’ve tried to explain this inexplicable phenomenon, whose secret is yours alone. But please understand that the Abraham Lincoln chased you over the Pacific high seas in the belief it was hunting some powerful marine monster.”
A half smile curled the commander’s lips. He said, in a calmer tone:
“Professor Aronnax,” he replied, “do you believe that your frigate wouldn’t have chased and cannonaded an underwater boat as readily as a monster?”
This question baffled me, since Commander Farragut would certainly have shown no such hesitation.
“So you understand, sir,” the stranger went on, “that I have a right to treat you as my enemy.”
I kept quiet.
“Nothing obliged me to grant you hospitality,” the commander went on. “I could sink under the sea, and I could forget you ever existed. Wouldn’t that be my right?”
“Perhaps it would be the right of a savage,” I replied. “But not that of a civilized man.”
“Professor,” the commander replied swiftly, “I’m not what you term a civilized man! I’ve severed all ties with society. Therefore I obey none of its regulations.”
This man had rendered himself independent, out of all reach, free in the strictest sense of the word! No man could call him to account for his actions. These thoughts swiftly crossed my mind.
After a long silence, the commander went on with our conversation.
“But since fate has brought you here,” he said. “you’ll stay aboard my vessel. You’ll be free here, and in exchange for that freedom, I’ll lay on you just one condition. Your word that you’ll submit to it will be sufficient.”
“Go on, sir,” I replied. “I assume this condition is one an honest man can accept?”
“Yes, sir. Just this. It’s possible that certain unforeseen events may force me to confine you to your cabins for some hours, or even for some days. Since I prefer never to use violence, I expect from you in such a case your unquestioning obedience. Do you accept this condition?”
“We accept,” I replied. “Only, I’ll ask your permission, sir, to address a question to you, just one.”
“Go ahead, sir.”
“You said we’d be free aboard your vessel?”
“Completely.”
“Then I would ask what you mean by this freedom.”
“Why, the freedom to come, go, see, and even closely observe everything happening here—in short, the freedom we ourselves enjoy, my companions and I.”
It was obvious that we did not understand each other.
“Pardon me, sir,” I went on, “but that’s merely the freedom that every prisoner has, the freedom to pace his cell! That’s not enough for us.”
“Nevertheless, it will have to do!”
“What! We must give up seeing our homeland, friends, and relatives ever again?”
“Yes, sir. But giving up that intolerable earthly yoke that some men call freedom is perhaps less painful than you think!”
“By thunder!” Ned Land shouted. “I’ll never promise I won’t try getting out of here!”
“I didn’t ask for such