I wished the beast would exhaust itself, and not be insensible to fatigue, like a steam-engine! But it was of no use. Hours passed, without its showing any signs of exhaustion. Because, professor, that beast is made of sheet-iron. However, Captain Nemo, I replied, without noticing the ironical turn of his phrase, the Nautilus ran aground in open sea. Now the tides are not strong in the Pacific; and if you cannot lighten the Nautilus, I do not see how it will be reinflated. I am at your service, captain.
Stay here, my friends, said I, detaining them. Let us remain together until we are out of this block. Very well! Master Land's imprudences are beginning. You know him, captain? I then heard the panels shut. The undulations of the sea, which caused a slight rolling motion, ceased. Had the Nautilus quitted the surface of the ocean? Had it gone back to the motionless bed of water? I tried to resist sleep. It was impossible. My breathing grew weak. I felt a mortal cold freeze my stiffened and half-paralyzed limbs. My eyelids, like leaden caps, fell over my eyes. I could not raise them; a morbid sleep, full of hallucinations, bereft me of my being. Then the visions disappeared, and left me in complete insensibility.
What does one risk in such a calling? said Ned Land. The swallowing of some mouthfuls of sea-water? Ned Land did not answer; his compressed lips and frowning brow showed with him the violent possession this fixed idea had taken of his mind. Perhaps. Captain Nemo stopped. I admit I could not yet see why this history should interest me.