appear. I expected to see him, but could only perceive the helmsman in the glass cage. I sat down upon the protuberance formed by the hull of the launch, and inhaled the delicious sea-breeze.
The mist gradually rose, under the influence of the rising sun, which soon flashed up over the eastern horizon, throwing a fiery track, like a lghted powder train, across the sea. The scattered clouds were tinged with bright and variegated colours, while the numerous “mares’ tails” indicated a breeze.
But what did a storm matter to the Nautilus? I was admiring the beautiful sunrise, when I heard someone ascend to the platform. I expected to see Captain Nemo, but it was his mate, whom I had already met at the first interview with the captain. The mate came up, but did not seem to notice my presence, and he proceeded to “sweep” the horizon with his powerful glass. His observation having terminated, he approached the panel and pronounced the following sentence. I remember the exact terms, because every morning the same words were repeated under the same conditions. The sentence ran thus—
“Nautron respoc lorni virch.”
What that meant, I cannot say.
Having pronounced those words, the mate descended, and I, fancying that the Nautilus would now resume her course, followed him, and returned to my room.
Five days passed in a similar manner. Every morning I ascended the platform. The same phrase was pronounced by the same person—but Captain Nemo never appeared.
I had made up my mind that I should see him no
