Двадцать тысяч лье под водой / Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Жюль Верн

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СКАЧАТЬ Land shot back. “They’re rogues!”

      “Oh good! And from what country?”

      “Roguedom!”

      “My gallant Ned, that country isn’t clearly marked on maps of the world. What is the nationality of these two strangers? Neither English, French, nor German, that’s all we can say. But there must be southern blood in them. Probably they’re Spaniards, Turks, Arabs, or East Indians. And as for their speech, it’s incomprehensible.”

      The door opened. A steward entered. He brought us some clothes, jackets and sailor’s pants, made out of a fabric whose nature I didn’t recognize. We hurried to change into them.

      Meanwhile our silent steward, perhaps a deaf-mute, set the table and laid three place settings.

      Overlaid with silver dish covers, various platters had been neatly positioned on the table cloth, and we sat down to eat. Assuredly, we were dealing with civilized people. The water was fresh and clear. Among the foods we were served, I was able to identify various fish. As for the tableware, it was elegant and in perfect taste. Each utensil, spoon, fork, knife, and plate, bore on its reverse a letter encircled by a Latin motto:

      Mobilis in mobili[23]

      N

      Moving within the moving element! It was a highly appropriate motto for this underwater machine. The letter N was no doubt the initial of the name of that mystifying individual in command beneath the seas!

      Our appetites appeased, we felt an urgent need for sleep. A natural reaction after that interminable night of fighting for our lives.

      My two companions lay down on the cabin’s carpeting and were soon deep in slumber.

      As for me, too many thoughts had piled up in my mind, too many insoluble questions had arisen, too many images were keeping my eyelids open! Where were we? What strange power was carrying us along? Then my mind grew calmer, my imagination melted into hazy drowsiness, and I soon fell into an uneasy slumber.

      Chapter 9

      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 СКАЧАТЬ