the vessel. I heard the keel grating against the rough, calcareous bottom of the coral reef.
At five-and-twenty minutes to three, Captain Nemo appeared in the saloon.
"We are going to start," said he.
"Ah!" replied I.
"I have given the order to open the hatches."
"And the Papuans?"
"The Papuans?" answered Captain Nemo, slightly shrugging his shoulders.
"Will they not come inside the Nautilus?"
"How?"
"Only by leaping over the hatches you have opened."
"M. Arronax," quietly answered Captain Nemo, "they will not enter the hatches of the Nautilus in that way, even if they were open."
I looked at the captain.
"You do not understand?" said he.
"Hardly."
"Well, come and you will see."
I directed my steps toward the central staircase. There Ned Land and Conseil were slyly watching some of the ship's crew, who were opening the hatches, while cries of rage and fearful vociferations resounded outside.
The port lids were pulled down outside. Twenty horrible faces appeared. But the first native who placed his hand on the stair-rail, struck from behind by some invisible force, I know not what, fled, uttering the most fearful cries, and making the wildest contortions.
Ten of his companions followed him. They met with the same fate.
Conseil was in ecstasy. Ned Land, carried away by his violent instincts, rushed on to the staircase. But the moment he seized the rail with both hands, he, in his turn, was overthrown.
"I am struck by a thunderbolt," cried he, with an emphatic oath.
This explained all. It was no rail, but a metallic cable, charged with electricity from the deck, communicating with the platform. Whoever touched it felt a powerful shock—and this shock would have been mortal, if Captain Nemo had discharged into the conductor the whole force
