The sailors went back to their sculling, and the coxswain steered the longboat toward the floating barrel.
We fished up the harpoon, and the skiff started off in pursuit of the animal.
The latter returned from time to time to breathe at the surface of the sea.
Its wound hadn't weakened it because it went with tremendous speed.
Driven by energetic arms, the longboat flew on its trail.
Several times we got within a few fathoms of it, and the Canadian hovered in readiness to strike; but then the dugong would steal away with a sudden dive, and it proved impossible to overtake the beast.
I'll let you assess the degree of anger consuming our impatient Ned Land.
He hurled at the hapless animal the most potent swearwords in the English language.
For my part, I was simply distressed to see this dugong outwit our every scheme.
We chased it unflaggingly for a full hour, and I'd begun to think it would prove too difficult to capture, when the animal got the untimely idea of taking revenge on us, a notion it would soon have cause to regret.
It wheeled on the skiff, to assault us in its turn.
This maneuver did not escape the Canadian.
"Watch out!" he said.
The coxswain pronounced a few words in his bizarre language, and no doubt he alerted his men to keep on their guard.
Arriving within twenty feet of the skiff, the dugong stopped, sharply sniffing the air with its huge nostrils, pierced not at the tip of its muzzle but on its topside.
Then it gathered itself and sprang at us.
The skiff couldn't avoid the collision.
Half overturned, it shipped a ton or two of water that we had to bail out.
But thanks to our skillful coxswain, we were fouled on the bias rather than broadside, so we didn't capsize.
Clinging to the stempost, Ned Land thrust his harpoon again and again into the gigantic animal, which imbedded its teeth in our gunwale and lifted the longboat out of the water as a lion would lift a deer.
We were thrown on top of each other, and I have no idea how the venture would have ended had not the Canadian, still thirsting for the beast's blood, finally pierced it to the heart.
I heard its teeth grind on sheet iron, and the dugong disappeared, taking our harpoon along with it.
But the barrel soon popped up on the surface, and a few moments later the animal's body appeared and rolled over on its back.
Our skiff rejoined it, took it in tow, and headed to the Nautilus.
It took pulleys of great strength to hoist this dugong onto the platform.
The beast weighed 5,000 kilograms.
It was carved up in sight of the Canadian, who remained to watch every detail of the operation.
At dinner the same day, my steward served me some slices of this flesh, skillfully dressed by the ship's cook.
I found it excellent, even better than veal if not beef.
The next morning, February 11, the Nautilus's pantry was enriched by more dainty game.
A covey of terns alighted on the Nautilus.
They were a species of Sterna nilotica unique to Egypt: beak black, head gray and stippled, eyes surrounded by white dots, back, wings, and tail grayish, belly and throat white, feet red.
Also caught were a couple dozen Nile duck, superior–tasting wildfowl whose neck and crown of the head are white speckled with black.
By then the Nautilus had reduced speed.
It moved ahead at a saunter, so to speak.
I observed that the Red Sea's water was becoming less salty the closer we got to Suez.
Near five o'clock in the afternoon, we sighted Cape Ras Mohammed to the north.
This cape forms the tip of Arabia Petraea, which lies between the Gulf of Suez and the Gulf of Aqaba.
The Nautilus entered the Strait of Jubal, which leads to the Gulf of Suez.
I could clearly make out a high mountain crowning Ras Mohammed between the two gulfs.
It was Mt.
Horeb, that biblical Mt.
Sinai on whose summit Moses met God face to face, that summit the mind's eye always pictures as wreathed in lightning.
At six o'clock, sometimes afloat and sometimes submerged, the Nautilus passed well out from El Tur, which sat at the far end of a bay whose waters seemed to be dyed red, as Captain Nemo had already mentioned.
Then night fell in the midst of a heavy silence occasionally broken by the calls of pelicans and nocturnal birds, by the sound of surf chafing against rocks, or by the distant moan of a steamer churning the waves of the gulf with noisy blades.
From eight to nine o'clock, the Nautilus stayed a few meters beneath the waters.
According to my calculations, we had to be quite close to Suez.
Through the panels in the lounge, I spotted rocky bottoms brightly lit by our electric rays.
It seemed to me that the strait was getting narrower and narrower.
At 9:15 when our boat returned to the surface, I climbed onto the platform.