two men. The oars were in the boat, and we had only to take our places.
At eight o’clock, armed with guns and hatchets, we left the Nautilus. The sea was calm, but there was a slight land-breeze. Conseil and I took the oars and pulled vigorously, and Ned steered. The boat was well managed, and went at a good pace.
Ned Land was unable to restrain his exultation. He was like an escaped prisoner, and did not think it was by any means necessary to return to prison.
“Aha, meat!” he cried, “we shall now eat some meat; and what meat? Game. No bread, perhaps. I am far from saying that fish is not a very good thing; but you may have too much of it; and a bit of venison grilled on the hot embers will be an agreeable variety.”
“Gourmand!” cried Conseil; “you make my mouth water.”
“We do not yet know whether there is any game in these woods,” said I, “or whether the game is not such as is more likely to hunt the hunter than to be hunted itself.”
“Very good, M. Aronnax,” said Ned, whose teeth must have been lately sharpened; “then I will eat the sirloin of a tiger if there be no other quadruped in the island.”
“Ned is getting alarming,” said Conseil.
“Come what will,” said Ned, “the first animal on four legs, without feathers; or the first on two legs, with feathers, shall be saluted by a shot from my gun, I assure you.”
“Now,” said I, “Master Land’s imprudence is beginning to manifest itself.”
