Farragut had perceived that it was in reality a submarine vessel more dangerous than a supernatural cetacean.
Yes, this must be it, and in every sea they were now pursuing this engine of destruction.
It was indeed terrible if, as we thought, Captain Nemo used the Nautilus in a scheme of vengeance. Did he not attack some ship that night in the Indian Ocean when we were imprisoned? Had not that man who was buried in the coral cemetery fallen a victim to the attack provoked by the Nautilus? Yes, it must be so. One portion of Captain Nemo’s mysterious existence was developing itself. And if his identity were not established, at least the several nations had banded against him, and now hunted him, not as a chimera, but as a man who had vowed an implacable hatred against them.
All the terrible past rose up before me. Instead of meeting friends on board the attacking vessel, we should only find pitiless enemies.
Meantime the cannon-shot kept flying about our ears. Some striking the water, ricochetted, and sank at a great distance. But none of them hit the Nautilus.
The ironclad was then only three miles away. But notwithstanding the tremendous cannonade, Captain Nemo did not appear on the platform, and yet had one of these conical shot struck the Nautilus it would have been fatal. The Canadian then said:
“Ought we not to endeavour to get out of this scrape? Let us make signals, they will perhaps understand that we are honest people.”
Ned Land took his handkerchief to wave to them, but scarcely had he opened it than he was struck down by an iron hand, and, notwithstanding his great strength he fell upon the deck.
