“We will fly this,” I exclaimed.
“Good,” said Ned. “But what ship is it?”
“I do not know,” I replied, “but what ever it be it will be sunk during the night. Better perish with it than be accomplices in a war of reprisal of which we do not understand the justice.”
“That is my opinion,” replied Ned. “Let us wait till night.”
Night came. A deep silence reigned on board. The compass indicated that the Nautilus still held her course. I heard the rapid throbbings of the screw. We were still at the surface, and a slight roll affected the Nautilus.
My companions and I had determined to escape so soon as the ship was sufficiently near to make ourselves heard or seen, for the moon, which was nearly at the full, shone brightly. Once on board the other ship, we could prevent the attack that threatened her, or at least do all that the circumstances admitted. Many times I thought that the Nautilus was ready to attack, but Captain Nemo was contented to let the chase approach nearer, and then the Nautilus would again increase her distance.
The first part of the night passed without incident. We watched our opportunity. We spoke little, being too much excited to talk. Ned Land wanted to throw himself into the sea, but I persuaded him to wait. I thought the Nautilus would attack the ironclad at the surface of the sea, and then it would be not only possible but easy to escape.
At three o’clock, being restless, I ascended to the platform. Captain Nemo had not quitted it. He was standing up at the “bow,” near his flag, which was waving in the breeze over his head. He did not lift his eyes from the ship; his look was one of extraordinary attention, and
