ep silence reigned on board. The compass showed that
the Nautilus had not altered its course. It was on the surface,
rolling slightly. My companions and I resolved to fly when the vessel
should be near enough either to hear us or to see us; for the moon,
which would be full in two or three days, shone brightly. Once on
board the ship, if we could not prevent the blow which threatened it,
we could, at least we would, do all that circumstances would allow.
Several times I thought the Nautilus was preparing for attack; but
Captain Nemo contented himself with allowing his adversary to approach,
and then fled once more before it.

Part of the night passed without any incident. We watched the
opportunity for action. We spoke little, for we were too much moved.
Ned Land would have thrown himself into the sea, but I forced him to
wait. According to my idea, the Nautilus would attack the ship at her
waterline, and then it would not only be possible, but easy to fly.

At three in the morning, full of uneasiness, I mounted the platform.
Captain Nemo had not left it. He was standing at the fore part near
his flag, which a slight breeze displayed above his head. He did not
take his eyes from the vessel. The intensity of his look seemed to
attract, and fascinate, and draw it onward more surely than if he had
been towing it. The moon was then passing the meridian. Jupiter was
rising in the east. Amid this peaceful scene of nature, sky and ocean
rivalled each other in tranquillity, the sea offering to the orbs of
night the finest mirror they could ever have in which to reflect their
image. As I thought of the deep calm of these elements, compared with
all those passions brooding imperceptibly within the Nautilus, I
shuddered.

The vessel was within two miles of us. It was ever nearing that
phosphorescent light which showed the presence of the Nautilus. I
could see its green and red lights, and its white lantern hanging from
the large foremast. An indistinct vibration quivered through its
rigging, showing that the furnaces were heated to the uttermost.
Sheaves of sparks and red ashes flew from the funnels, shining in the
atmosphere like stars.

I remained thus until six in the morning, without Captain Nemo noticing
me. The ship stood about a mile and a half from us, and with the first
dawn of day the firing began afresh. The moment could not be far off
when, the Nautilus attacking its adversary, my companions and