Ned Land's Tempers

: PART ONE
: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea

How long we slept I do not know; but our sleep must have lasted long,

for it rested us completely from our fatigues. I woke first. My

companions had not moved, and were still stretched in their corner.



Hardly roused from my somewhat hard couch, I felt my brain freed, my

mind clear. I then began an attentive examination of our cell.

Nothing was changed inside. The prison was still a prison--the

prisone
s, prisoners. However, the steward, during our sleep, had

cleared the table. I breathed with difficulty. The heavy air seemed

to oppress my lungs. Although the cell was large, we had evidently

consumed a great part of the oxygen that it contained. Indeed, each

man consumes, in one hour, the oxygen contained in more than 176 pints

of air, and this air, charged (as then) with a nearly equal quantity of

carbonic acid, becomes unbreathable.



It became necessary to renew the atmosphere of our prison, and no doubt

the whole in the submarine boat. That gave rise to a question in my

mind. How would the commander of this floating dwelling-place proceed?

Would he obtain air by chemical means, in getting by heat the oxygen

contained in chlorate of potash, and in absorbing carbonic acid by

caustic potash? Or--a more convenient, economical, and consequently

more probable alternative--would he be satisfied to rise and take

breath at the surface of the water, like a whale, and so renew for

twenty-four hours the atmospheric provision?



In fact, I was already obliged to increase my respirations to eke out

of this cell the little oxygen it contained, when suddenly I was

refreshed by a current of pure air, and perfumed with saline

emanations. It was an invigorating sea breeze, charged with iodine. I

opened my mouth wide, and my lungs saturated themselves with fresh

particles.



At the same time I felt the boat rolling. The iron-plated monster had

evidently just risen to the surface of the ocean to breathe, after the

fashion of whales. I found out from that the mode of ventilating the

boat.



When I had inhaled this air freely, I sought the conduit pipe, which

conveyed to us the beneficial whiff, and I was not long in finding it.

Above the door was a ventilator, through which volumes of fresh air

renewed the impoverished atmosphere of the cell.



I was making my observations, when Ned and Conseil awoke almost at the

same time, under the influence of this reviving air. They rubbed their

eyes, stretched themselves, and were on their feet in an instant.



"Did master sleep well?" asked Conseil, with his usual politeness.



"Very well, my brave boy. And you, Mr. Land?"



"Soundly, Professor. But, I don't know if I am right or not, there

seems to be a sea breeze!"



A seaman could not be mistaken, and I told the Canadian all that had

passed during his sleep.



"Good!" said he. "That accounts for those roarings we heard, when the

supposed narwhal sighted the Abraham Lincoln."



"Quite so, Master Land; it was taking breath."



"Only, Mr. Aronnax, I have no idea what o'clock it is, unless it is

dinner-time."



"Dinner-time! my good fellow? Say rather breakfast-time, for we

certainly have begun another day."



"So," said Conseil, "we have slept twenty-four hours?"



"That is my opinion."



"I will not contradict you," replied Ned Land. "But, dinner or

breakfast, the steward will be welcome, whichever he brings."



"Master Land, we must conform to the rules on board, and I suppose our

appetites are in advance of the dinner hour."



"That is just like you, friend Conseil," said Ned, impatiently. "You

are never out of temper, always calm; you would return thanks before

grace, and die of hunger rather than complain!"



Time was getting on, and we were fearfully hungry; and this time the

steward did not appear. It was rather too long to leave us, if they

really had good intentions towards us. Ned Land, tormented by the

cravings of hunger, got still more angry; and, notwithstanding his

promise, I dreaded an explosion when he found himself with one of the

crew.



For two hours more Ned Land's temper increased; he cried, he shouted,

but in vain. The walls were deaf. There was no sound to be heard in

the boat; all was still as death. It did not move, for I should have

felt the trembling motion of the hull under the influence of the screw.

Plunged in the depths of the waters, it belonged no longer to earth:

this silence was dreadful.



I felt terrified, Conseil was calm, Ned Land roared.



Just then a noise was heard outside. Steps sounded on the metal flags.

The locks were turned, the door opened, and the steward appeared.



Before I could rush forward to stop him, the Canadian had thrown him

down, and held him by the throat. The steward was choking under the

grip of his powerful hand.



Conseil was already trying to unclasp the harpooner's hand from his

half-suffocated victim, and I was going to fly to the rescue, when

suddenly I was nailed to the spot by hearing these words in French:



"Be quiet, Master Land; and you, Professor, will you be so good as to

listen to me?"



More

;