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 “No, captain; but there is still danger.”

“In what way?”

“To-morrow we must open the panels again for fresh air.”

“Certainly; we breathe like cetaceans, you know.”

“If at this moment the savages were on the outer platform, I do not see how you could prevent their entrance.”

“Then you suppose they will get on board?”

“I am sure of it.”

“Well, let them if they like. I see no reason to prevent them. After all, they are but poor devils, these Papuans, and I do not wish that my visit to the isle of Gueboroar should cost one of them his life.”

At that I rose to retire, but Captain Nemo detained me, and invited me to sit beside him. He questioned me with much interest respecting our excursions to the island, and our hunting, and did not appear to understand the Canadian’s desire for fresh meat. The conversation then became more lively, and without being too communicative, Captain Nemo displayed great amiability.

Amongst other things, we spoke of the position of the Nautilus, stranded upon the precise spot where Dumont d’Urville was so nearly lost. Speaking of this the captain said:

“He was one of your greatest and best sailors. He was the French Captain Cook. Unfortunate man! Having braved the icebergs of the southern polar regions, the coral reefs of the ocean, and the cannibals of the Pacific, to perish miserably in a railway train. If this majestic man was able to reflect during the last moments