Near seven o’clock Ned and Conseil joined me. Those two inseparable companions had slept serenely, utterly unaware of the Nautilus’s feat.
“Well, Mr. Naturalist,” the Canadian asked in a gently mocking tone, “and how about that Mediterranean?”
“We’re floating on its surface, Ned my friend.”
“What!” Conseil put in. “Last night … ?”
“Yes, last night, in a matter of minutes, we cleared that insuperable isthmus.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” the Canadian replied.
“And you’re in the wrong, Mr. Land,” I went on. “That flat coastline curving southward is the coast of Egypt.”
“Tell it to the marines, sir,” answered the stubborn Canadian.
“But if master says so,” Conseil told him, “then so be it.”
“What’s more, Ned,” I said, “Captain Nemo himself did the honors in his tunnel, and I stood beside him in the pilothouse while he steered the Nautilus through that narrow passageway.”
“You hear, Ned?” Conseil said.
“And you, Ned, who have such good eyes,” I added, “you can spot the jetties of Port Said stretching out to sea.”
The Canadian looked carefully.
“Correct,” he said. “You’re right, professor, and your captain’s a superman. We’re in the Mediterranean. Fine. So now let’s have a chat about our little doings, if you please, but in such a way that nobody overhears.”
I could easily see what the Canadian was driving at. In any event, I thought it best to let him have his chat, and we all three went to sit next to the beacon, where we were less exposed to the damp spray from the billows.
“Now, Ned, we’re all ears,” I said. “What have you to tell us?”
“What I’ve got to tell you is very simple,” the Canadian replied. “We’re in Europe, and before Captain Nemo’s whims take us deep into the polar seas or back to Oceania, I say we should leave this Nautilus.”
I confess that such discussions with the Canadian always baffled me. I didn’t want to restrict my companions’ freedom in any way, and yet I had no desire to leave Captain Nemo. Thanks to him and his submersible, I was finishing my undersea research by the day, and I was rewriting my book on the great ocean depths in the midst of its very element. Would I ever again have such an opportunity to observe the ocean’s wonders? Absolutely not! So I couldn’t entertain this idea of leaving the Nautilus before completing our course of inquiry.
“Ned my friend,” I said, “answer me honestly. Are you bored with this ship? Are you sorry that fate has cast you into Captain Nemo’s hands?”
The Canadian paused for a short while before replying. Then, crossing his arms:
“Honestly,” he said, “I’m not sorry about this voyage under the seas. I’ll be glad to have done it, but in order to have done it, it has to finish. That’s my feeling.”
“It will finish, Ned.”
“Where and when?”
“Where? I don’t know. When? I can’t say. Or, rather, I suppose it will be over when these seas have nothing more to teach us. Everything that begins in this world must inevitably come to an end.”
“I think as master does,” Conseil replied, “and it’s extremely possible that after crossing every sea on the globe, Captain Nemo will bid the three of us a fond farewell.”
“Bid us a fond farewell?” the Canadian exclaimed. “You mean beat us to a fare-thee-well!”
“Let’s not exaggerate, Mr. Land,” I went on. “We have nothing to fear from the captain, but neither do I share Conseil’s views. We’re privy to the Nautilus’s secrets, and I don’t expect that its commander, just to set us free, will meekly stand by while we spread those secrets all over the world.”
“But in that case what do you expect?” the Canadian asked.
“That we’ll encounter advantageous conditions for escaping just as readily in six months as now.”
“Great Scott!” Ned Land put in. “And where, if you please, will we be in six months, Mr. Naturalist?”
“Perhaps here, perhaps in China. You know how quickly the Nautilus moves. It crosses oceans like swallows cross the air or express trains continents. It doesn’t fear heavily traveled seas. Who can say it won’t hug the coasts of France, England, or America, where an escape attempt could be carried out just as effectively as here.”
“Professor Aronnax,” the Canadian replied, “your arguments are rotten to the core. You talk way off in the future: ‘We’ll be here, we’ll be there!’ Me, I’m talking about right now: we are here, and we must take advantage of it!”
I was hard pressed by Ned Land’s common sense, and I felt myself losing ground. I no longer knew what arguments to put forward on my behalf.
“Sir,” Ned went on, “let’s suppose that by some impossibility, Captain Nemo offered your freedom to you this very day. Would you accept?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“And suppose he adds that this offer he’s making you today won’t ever be repeated, then would you accept?”
I did not reply.
“And what thinks our friend Conseil?” Ned Land asked.
“Your friend Conseil,” the fine lad replied serenely, “has nothing to say for himself. He’s a completely disinterested party on this question. Like his master, like his comrade Ned, he’s a bachelor. Neither wife, parents, nor children are waiting for him back home. He’s in master’s employ, he thinks like master, he speaks like master, and much to his regret, he can’t be counted on to form a majority. Only two persons face each other here: master on one side, Ned Land on the other. That said, your friend Conseil is listening, and he’s ready to keep score.”
I couldn’t help smiling as Conseil wiped himself out of existence. Deep down, the Canadian must have been overjoyed at not having to contend with him.
“Then, sir,” Ned Land said, “since Conseil is no more, we’ll have this discussion between just the two of us. I’ve talked, you’ve listened. What’s your reply?”
It was obvious that the matter had to be settled, and evasions were distasteful to me.
“Ned my friend,” I said, “here’s my reply. You have right on your side and my arguments can’t stand up to yours. It will never do to count on Captain Nemo’s benevolence. The most ordinary good sense would forbid him to set us free. On the other hand, good sense decrees that we take advantage of our first opportunity to leave the Nautilus.”
“Fine, Professor Aronnax, that’s wisely said.”
“But one proviso,” I said, “just one. The opportunity must be the real thing. Our first attempt to escape must succeed, because if it misfires, we won’t get a second chance, and Captain Nemo will never forgive us.”
“That’s also well put,” the Canadian replied. “But your proviso applies to any escape attempt, whether it happens in two years or two days. So this is still the question: if a promising opportunity comes up, we have to grab it.”
“Agreed. And now, Ned, will you tell me what you mean by a promising opportunity?”
“One that leads the Nautilus on a cloudy night within a short distance of some European coast.”
“And you’ll try to get away by swimming?”