Scattered on high, the clouds were colored in bright, wonderfully shaded hues, and numerous "ladyfingers"* warned of daylong winds.
*Author's Note:
"Ladyfingers" are small, thin, white clouds with ragged edges.
But what were mere winds to this Nautilus, which no storms could intimidate!
So I was marveling at this delightful sunrise, so life–giving and cheerful, when I heard someone climbing onto the platform.
I was prepared to greet Captain Nemo, but it was his chief officer who appeared—whom I had already met during our first visit with the captain.
He advanced over the platform, not seeming to notice my presence.
A powerful spyglass to his eye, he scrutinized every point of the horizon with the utmost care.
Then, his examination over, he approached the hatch and pronounced a phrase whose exact wording follows below. I remember it because, every morning, it was repeated under the same circumstances.
It ran like this:
"Nautron respoc lorni virch."
What it meant I was unable to say.
These words pronounced, the chief officer went below again.
I thought the Nautilus was about to resume its underwater navigating.
So I went down the hatch and back through the gangways to my stateroom.
Five days passed in this way with no change in our situation.
Every morning I climbed onto the platform.
The same phrase was pronounced by the same individual.
Captain Nemo did not appear.
I was pursuing the policy that we had seen the last of him, when on November 16, while reentering my stateroom with Ned and Conseil, I found a note addressed to me on the table.
I opened it impatiently.
It was written in a script that was clear and neat but a bit
"Old English" in style, its characters reminding me of German calligraphy.
The note was worded as follows:
Professor Aronnax
Aboard the Nautilus
November 16, 1867
Captain Nemo invites Professor Aronnax on a hunting trip that will take place tomorrow morning in his Crespo Island forests.
He hopes nothing will prevent the professor from attending, and he looks forward with pleasure to the professor's companions joining him. CAPTAIN NEMO,
Commander of the Nautilus.
"A hunting trip!" Ned exclaimed.
"And in his forests on Crespo Island!"
Conseil added.
"But does this mean the old boy goes ashore?"
Ned Land went on.
"That seems to be the gist of it," I said, rereading the letter.
"Well, we've got to accept!" the Canadian answered.
"Once we're on solid ground, we'll figure out a course of action.
Besides, it wouldn't pain me to eat a couple slices of fresh venison!"
Without trying to reconcile the contradictions between Captain Nemo's professed horror of continents or islands and his invitation to go hunting in a forest, I was content to reply:
"First let's look into this Crespo Island."
I consulted the world map; and in latitude 32° 40' north and longitude 167° 50' west, I found an islet that had been discovered in 1801 by Captain Crespo, which old Spanish charts called Rocca de la Plata, in other words, "Silver Rock." So we were about 1,800 miles from our starting point, and by a slight change of heading, the Nautilus was bringing us back toward the southeast.
I showed my companions this small, stray rock in the middle of the north Pacific.
"If Captain Nemo does sometimes go ashore," I told them, "at least he only picks desert islands!"
Ned Land shook his head without replying; then he and Conseil left me.
After supper was served me by the mute and emotionless steward, I fell asleep; but not without some anxieties.
When I woke up the next day, November 17, I sensed that the Nautilus was completely motionless. I dressed hurriedly and entered the main lounge.
Captain Nemo was there waiting for me. He stood up, bowed, and asked if it suited me to come along.
Since he made no allusion to his absence the past eight days, I also refrained from mentioning it, and I simply answered that my companions and I were ready to go with him. "Only, sir," I added,
"I'll take the liberty of addressing a question to you."