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CHAPTER IX
NED LAND'S TEMPERS
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 prisoners, 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?"
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