I could sink under the sea, and I could forget you ever existed.
Wouldn't that be my right?"
"Perhaps it would be the right of a savage," I replied.
"But not that of a civilized man."
"Professor," the commander replied swiftly,
"I'm not what you term a civilized man!
I've severed all ties with society, for reasons that I alone have the right to appreciate. Therefore I obey none of its regulations, and I insist that you never invoke them in front of me!"
This was plain speaking.
A flash of anger and scorn lit up the stranger's eyes, and I glimpsed a fearsome past in this man's life.
Not only had he placed himself beyond human laws, he had rendered himself independent, out of all reach, free in the strictest sense of the word!
For who would dare chase him to the depths of the sea when he thwarted all attacks on the surface?
What ship could withstand a collision with his underwater Monitor?
What armor plate, no matter how heavy, could bear the thrusts of his spur?
No man among men could call him to account for his actions.
God, if he believed in Him, his conscience if he had one—these were the only judges to whom he was answerable.
These thoughts swiftly crossed my mind while this strange individual fell silent, like someone completely self–absorbed.
I regarded him with a mixture of fear and fascination, in the same way, no doubt, that ?dipus regarded the Sphinx.
After a fairly long silence, the commander went on with our conversation.
"So I had difficulty deciding," he said.
"But I concluded that my personal interests could be reconciled with that natural compassion to which every human being has a right.
Since fate has brought you here, you'll stay aboard my vessel.
You'll be free here, and in exchange for that freedom, moreover totally related to it, I'll lay on you just one condition.
Your word that you'll submit to it will be sufficient."
"Go on, sir," I replied.
"I assume this condition is one an honest man can accept?"
"Yes, sir.
Just this.
It's possible that certain unforeseen events may force me to confine you to your cabins for some hours, or even for some days as the case may be.
Since I prefer never to use violence, I expect from you in such a case, even more than in any other, your unquestioning obedience.
By acting in this way, I shield you from complicity, I absolve you of all responsibility, since I myself make it impossible for you to see what you aren't meant to see.
Do you accept this condition?"
So things happened on board that were quite odd to say the least, things never to be seen by people not placing themselves beyond society's laws!
Among all the surprises the future had in store for me, this would not be the mildest.
"We accept," I replied.
"Only, I'll ask your permission, sir, to address a question to you, just one."
"Go ahead, sir."
"You said we'd be free aboard your vessel?"
"Completely."
"Then I would ask what you mean by this freedom."
"Why, the freedom to come, go, see, and even closely observe everything happening here—except under certain rare circumstances—in short, the freedom we ourselves enjoy, my companions and I."
It was obvious that we did not understand each other.
"Pardon me, sir," I went on, "but that's merely the freedom that every prisoner has, the freedom to pace his cell!
That's not enough for us."
"Nevertheless, it will have to do!"
"What!
We must give up seeing our homeland, friends, and relatives ever again?"
"Yes, sir.
But giving up that intolerable earthly yoke that some men call freedom is perhaps less painful than you think!"
"By thunder!"
Ned Land shouted.