“Well, then, I recommend that Monsieur eat his breakfast. It is prudent, for we do not know what may happen.”
“You are right, Conseil.”
“Unfortunately,” said Ned, “they have only given us ship’s fare.”
“Friend Ned,” said I, “what would you have done had there been no breakfast at all?”
This remark put an end to the harpooner’s grumbling. We sat down and ate in silence. I ate little; Conseil forced himself to eat, as a matter of prudence; and Ned Land, nevertheless, did not lose a mouthful. Then, breakfast over, we rested on the table as we sat.
Just then the luminous globes were extinguished, and we were left in utter darkness. Ned Land went to sleep on the spot, and to my astonishment Conseil also yielded to a heavy drowsiness. I was wondering what had caused this sudden accession of sleep in him when I felt my brain affected by a drowsy feeling. My eyes closed in spite of all my efforts to the contrary. I became a prey to a terrible hallucination. Evidently some soporific had been mixed with the food we had eaten. It was therefore not enough to imprison us to prevent the betrayal of Captain Nemo’s secret—it was necessary to drug us as well.
I heard the panels shut. The undulation of the water ceased. The Nautilus had then quitted the surface of the ocean. Was she again descending to the motionless zones of the seas?
I tried to resist sleep; it was impossible. My breathing became weaker; I felt a death-like chill ex-
