I jumped up. I was, I confess, unprepared for such a communication. I could not reply.
“It was arranged to wait an opportunity. It is at hand. This evening we shall be only a few miles from the Spanish coast. The night will be dark. The wind is high. You promised, M. Aronnax, and I depend upon you.”
As I still was silent the Canadian rose and came towards me.
“To-night at nine o’clock,” said he. “I have warned Conseil. At that time Captain Nemo will be shut in in his own room, and most likely asleep. Neither the engineers nor the crew will be able to see us. Conseil and I will gain the centre staircase. You, M. Aronnax, can remain in the library close by till I give the signal. The oars, mast, and sail are in the launch; I have even succeeded in laying in some provisions, and I have got an English ‘key’ to undo the bolts which fasten the boat to the Nautilus. You see all is prepared. This evening, mind.”
“The sea is very rough,” I said.
“I know that,” replied the Canadian, “but we must risk it. Our freedom is worth a little danger. But the boat is strong, and a few miles with a favourable wind is nothing after all. Who knows, by to-morrow we may be a hundred leagues away. If only fate be propitious, by ten or eleven to-night we shall have landed somewhere or be dead. Therefore, until the evening, adieu.”
The Canadian retired, leaving me speechless. I had fancied that, the chance once gone, I should have had time to reflect or discuss the point. My obstinate companion would not allow this; but, after all, what could I have said? Ned Land was right—a hundred times right. Here was a chance of an opportunity, and he was taking advantage of it. Could I retract my promise, and assume the responsibility
