20000-Leagues-Under-the-Seas-2nd-version-40

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“Perfectly,	Mr.	Land.	It	was	catching	its	breath!”
“Only	I’ve	no	idea	what	time	it	is,	Professor	Aronnax,	unless	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	put,”	the	Canadian	replied.	“We	deserve	two	meals,	and	speaking	for
myself,	I’ll	do	justice	to	them	both.”
“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,	otherwise	last	evening’s	dinner	wouldn’t	make	any
sense.”
“Unless	they’re	fattening	us	up!”	Ned	shot	back.
“I	object,”	I	replied.	“We	have	not	fallen	into	the	hands	of	cannibals.”
“Just	because	they	don’t	make	a	habit	of	it,”	the	Canadian	replied	in	all
seriousness,	“doesn’t	mean	they	don’t	indulge	from	time	to	time.	Who	knows?
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	manservant,	and
me	–”
“Get	rid	of	those	ideas,	Mr.	Land,”	I	answered	the	harpooner.	“And	above	all,
don’t	let	them	lead	you	to	flare	up	against	our	hosts,	which	would	only	make	our
situation	worse.”
“Anyhow,”	the	harpooner	said,	“I’m	as	hungry	as	all	Hades,	and	dinner	or
breakfast,	not	one	puny	meal	has	arrived!”
“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.
“There	you	go	again,	Conseil	my	friend!”	the	impatient	Canadian	shot	back.
“You	never	allow	yourself	any	displays	of	bile	or	attacks	of	nerves!	You’re
everlastingly	calm!	You’d	say	your	after-meal	grace	even	if	you	didn’t	get	any
food	for	your	before-meal	blessing—	and	you’d	starve	to	death	rather	than
complain!”
“What	good	would	it	do?”	Conseil	asked.
“Complaining	doesn’t	have	to	do	good,	it	just	feels	good!	And	if	these	pirates—I
say	pirates	out	of	consideration	for	the	professor’s	feelings,	since	he	doesn’t
want	us	to	call	them	cannibals—	if	these	pirates	think	they’re	going	to	smother
me	in	this	cage	without	hearing	what	cusswords	spice	up	my	outbursts,	they’ve
got	another	think	coming!	Look	here,	Professor	Aronnax,	speak	frankly.	How
long	do	you	figure	they’ll	keep	us	in	this	iron	box?”
“To	tell	the	truth,	friend	Land,	I	know	little	more	about	it	than	you	do.”
“But	in	a	nutshell,	what	do	you	suppose	is	going	on?”
“My	supposition	is	that	sheer	chance	has	made	us	privy	to	an	important	secret.
Now	then,	if	the	crew	of	this	underwater	boat	have	a	personal	interest	in	keeping
that	secret,	and	if	their	personal	interest	is	more	important	than	the	lives	of	three
men,	I	believe	that	our	very	existence	is	in	jeopardy.	If	such	is	not	the	case,	then
at	the	first	available	opportunity,	this	monster	that	has	swallowed	us	will	return
us	to	the	world	inhabited	by	our	own	kind.”
“Unless	they	recruit	us	to	serve	on	the	crew,”	Conseil	said,	“and	keep	us	here—”
“Till	the	moment,”	Ned	Land	answered,	“when	some	frigate	that’s	faster	or
smarter	than	the	Abraham	Lincoln	captures	this	den	of	buccaneers,	then	hangs
all	of	us	by	the	neck	from	the	tip	of	a	mainmast	yardarm!”