The savages approached steadily, but very demonstrative in their hostility. Stones and arrows whistled round us.
Ned Land had no intention to abandon his provisions, and, despite our danger, with the pig in one hand and the kangaroos in the other, he retired at a moderate pace.
In two minutes we had reached the shore. To throw ourselves into the boat with our arms and provisions, push off, and man the oars, was the work of a moment. We had scarcely gained two cables’ length when a hundred savages, shouting and gesticulating, ran into the water up to their waists in pursuit. I looked to see whether anyone was on the deck of the Nautilus. But no, the enormous machine appeared absolutely deserted.
Twenty minutes later we were on board. The panels were open. We pulled up the launch, and entered the Nautilus.
I descended to the saloon, whence I heard music. Captain Nemo was there, seated at the organ, and plunged in a musical reverie.
“Captain,” I said.
He did not hear me.
“Captain,” I repeated, touching him as I spoke.
He started, and turned round.
“Ah, Professor; is it you?” said he. “Well, have you had good sport; have you had success in your botanising?”
“Yes, captain. But we have unfortunately met with some bipeds, whose near neighbourhood makes me uneasy.”
“What bipeds?”
