brought to me Monsieur Pierre Aronnax, Professor of Natural History in the museum at Paris, charged with a scientific mission; Conseil, his servant, and Ned Land, a Canadian by birth, harpooner on board the frigate Abraham Lincoln, of the United States Navy.”
I bowed assent. There was no necessity for further reply. The man expressed himself with perfect ease, with no foreign accent. His phraseology was good, his words well chosen, his facility of speech remarkable. Nevertheless, I did not take to him as a countryman.
He continued:
“You have doubtless thought that I have been a long time in paying you a second visit. It was because, your identity once established, I wished to consider seriously how to act towards you. I hesitated for a long time. Unfortunate circumstances have brought you in contact with a man who has forsworn his fellow-creatures. You have come to disturb my existence—”
“Unintentionally,” I put in.
“Unintentionally!” repeated the stranger, raising his voice. “Was it unintentionally that the Abraham Lincoln chased me through the ocean so long? Was it unintentionally that you came on board that ship? Was it unintentionally that your shot came hustling against the hull of my vessel? Was it unintentionally that Land here struck it with his harpoon?”
I perceived a subdued anger in these questions. But co all these recriminations I had a perfectly plain answer to make, and I made it.
“Monsieur,” said I, “you are ignorant of the dis-
