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 Nautilus, we had sailed 17,000 leagues, and, as Ned remarked, it was time to put an end to it. He suggested that we should go and put the question boldly to Captain Nemo whether he intended to keep us on board for ever? But to this I would not agree. We had nothing to hope from the captain, we must trust to ourselves. Besides, for some time he had become gloomy, reserved, and unsociable. He seemed to avoid me; I only encountered him at rare intervals. Formerly he seemed pleased to be able to explain the wonders of the sea; now he left me to my studies in the saloon.

What change was come upon him, and why? I had no reason to reproach myself. Perhaps our presence on board worried him. Nevertheless, I did not think he would give us our liberty.

I therefore begged Ned to pause before acting. If this attempt had no result it would only revive his suspicions, and render our position unpleasant, and injurious to the projects of the Canadian. I will add that I could adduce no argument on the score of health. If I except the rough experience beneath the iceberg, we had never been better in our lives. The healthy food, the pure air, and regularity of our lives, with the uniformity of temperature, gave illness no chance, and for a man who did not regret the world, or—like Captain Nemo, who was at home, who went where he chose—I could understand the pleasure of such an existence. But for us, we had not broken with mankind, I did not wish to bury with me my curious and novel studies. I had now the right to write a true book of the sea, and I wished sooner or later to have it published.

Then again, in the waters of the Antilles, at ten yards beneath the surface, by the open panels, what interesting