Page:Twenty Thousand Verne Frith 1876.pdf/96

 “Well,” cried Ned, “I will never give my word of honour not to attempt to escape.”

“I did not ask you for your word of honour, Master Land,” replied the commander in a freezing tone.

“Sir,” said I, carried away in spite of myself, “you take an unfair advantage of your position. It is cruel.”

“No, sir; it is mercy. You are my prisoners of war. I take care of you, when, by a word, I could have you thrown into the sea. You have attacked me. You have come here, and have discovered a secret which no one in the world ought to know—the secret of my existence. And do you believe that I shall put you ashore upon that earth which shall know me no more? In keeping you here it is not you whom I take care of, it is myself.”

These words indicated a resolution which no argument could overturn.

“Thus,” I replied, “you give us simply a choice between life and death?”

“Exactly.”

“My friends,” said I, “to such a question there is no answer. But we are not bound to the master of the ship.”

“Not at all,” replied the captain. Then, in a more pleasant tone, he resumed: “Now permit me to finish what I have to say. I know you, M. Aronnax. You, personally, have not perhaps much reason to complain that you have cast in your lot with mine. You will find amongst the books which are my favourite studies your own work upon the greatest depths of the sea. I have often read it. You have extended your work as far as