Ned Land's Moods

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.

I don't know how long we slept, but it must have been a long time, because we felt completely rested. I woke first. My companions hadn't moved and were still lying 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.

As soon as I woke from my rather hard bed, I felt refreshed and clearheaded. I began to examine our cell carefully. Nothing inside had changed. The prison was still a prison, and the prisoners were still prisoners. But the steward had cleared the table while we slept. I had trouble breathing. The heavy air seemed to weigh on my lungs. Although the cell was large, we had clearly used up much of its oxygen. Each man uses the oxygen in more than 176 pints of air in an hour. As was now the case, the air then contains nearly as much carbon dioxide and 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 cetacean, and so renew for twenty-four hours the atmospheric provision?

The air in our prison needed to be refreshed, and no doubt the air throughout the submarine did too. This raised a question in my mind. How would the commander of this floating home do it? Would he use chemicals, heating potassium chlorate to release oxygen and using caustic potash to absorb carbon dioxide? Or would he simply rise to the surface and breathe like a whale? That would refresh the air supply for twenty-four hours. It was a more convenient and economical option, and therefore more likely.

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.

I was already having to breathe faster to get what little oxygen remained in the cell. Then suddenly, a current of pure air refreshed me, carrying the scent of salt. It was an invigorating sea breeze, rich with iodine. I opened my mouth wide and filled my lungs with fresh air.

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.

At the same time, I felt the boat rolling. The iron-plated monster had apparently just risen to the ocean’s surface to breathe, like a whale. From this, I learned how the boat was ventilated.

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.

After breathing the fresh air freely, I looked for the pipe that brought it to us. I soon found it. A vent above the door let fresh air into the cell, replacing the stale air.

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.

I was observing this when the refreshing air woke Ned and Conseil almost at the same time. They rubbed their eyes, stretched, and stood up at once.

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

“Did you sleep well, master?” asked Conseil, as politely as ever.

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

“All right, 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!”

“Soundly, Professor. But I’m not sure if I’m right. 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.

A sailor could not be mistaken, so I told the Canadian everything that had happened while he slept.

“Good!” said he; “that accounts for those roarings we heard, when the supposed narwhal sighted the Abraham Lincoln.”

“Good!” he said. “That explains the roaring we heard when the supposed narwhal spotted the Abraham Lincoln.”

“Quite so, Master Land; it was taking breath.”

“Exactly, Master Land. It was breathing.”

“Only, M. Aronnax, I have no idea what o’clock it is, unless it is dinner-time.”

“But, M. Aronnax, I have no idea what time it is, unless it's dinnertime.”

“Dinner-time! my good fellow? Say rather breakfast-time, for we certainly have begun another day.”

“Dinner time, my friend? You mean breakfast time, because another day has certainly begun.”

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

“So,” said Conseil, “we slept for twenty-four hours?”

“That is my opinion.”

“That’s my opinion.”

“I will not contradict you,” replied Ned Land. “But dinner or breakfast, the steward will be welcome, whichever he brings.”

“I won’t argue with you,” replied Ned Land. “But whether it’s dinner or breakfast, the steward will be welcome with it.”

“Master Land, we must conform to the rules on board, and I suppose our appetites are in advance of the dinner hour.”

“Master Land, we must follow the rules on board, and I suppose we are hungry before dinnertime.”

“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!”

“That’s just like you, friend Conseil,” Ned said impatiently. “You never lose your temper. You’re always calm. You’d give thanks before saying grace, and starve 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.

Time was passing, and we were terribly hungry. This time, the steward did not appear. If they really meant us well, they had left us alone too long. Hunger made Ned Land even angrier. Despite his promise, I feared he would explode when he met 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.

For two more hours, Ned Land grew increasingly angry. He cried and shouted, but it was no use. The walls were deaf. There was no sound in the boat. All was as still as death. The boat was not moving. If it had been, I would have felt the hull tremble as the propeller turned. Deep underwater, the boat no longer belonged to the earth. The silence was dreadful.

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

I was 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.

Just then, a noise came from outside. Footsteps sounded on the metal floor. The locks 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.

Before I could rush forward to stop him, the Canadian had thrown the steward down. He held the steward by the throat. The steward was choking in his powerful grip.

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—

Conseil was already trying to pry the harpooner’s hand off his half-suffocated victim. I was about to rush to the rescue when I suddenly froze at the sound of these words in French:

“Be quiet, Master Land; and you, Professor, will you be so good as to listen to me?”

“Be quiet, Master Land. Professor, would you please listen to me?”