o broke out for the
twentieth time. "We speak to those rogues in French, English, German,
and Latin, and not one of them has the politeness to answer!"

"Calm yourself," I said to the impetuous Ned; "anger will do no good."

"But do you see, Professor," replied our irascible companion, "that we
shall absolutely die of hunger in this iron cage?"

"Bah!" said Conseil, philosophically; "we can hold out some time yet."

"My friends," I said, "we must not despair. We have been worse off
than this. Do me the favour to wait a little before forming an opinion
upon the commander and crew of this boat."

"My opinion is formed," replied Ned Land, sharply. "They are rascals."

"Good! and from what country?"

"From the land of rogues!"

"My brave Ned, that country is not clearly indicated on the map of the
world; but I admit that the nationality of the two strangers is hard to
determine. Neither English, French, nor German, that is quite certain.
However, I am inclined to think that the commander and his companion
were born in low latitudes. There is southern blood in them. But I
cannot decide by their appearance whether they are Spaniards, Turks,
Arabians, or Indians. As to their language, it is quite
incomprehensible."

"There is the disadvantage of not knowing all languages," said Conseil,
"or the disadvantage of not having one universal language."

As he said these words, the door opened. A steward entered. He
brought us clothes, coats and trousers, made of a stuff I did not know.
I hastened to dress myself, and my companions followed my example.
During that time, the steward--dumb, perhaps deaf--had arranged the
table, and laid three plates.

"This is something like!" said Conseil.

"Bah!" said the angry harpooner, "what do you suppose they eat here?
Tortoise liver, filleted shark, and beef steaks from seadogs."

"We shall see," said Conseil.

The dishes, of bell metal, were placed on the table, and we took our
places. Undoubtedly we had to do with civilised people, and, had it
not been for the electric light which flooded us, I could have fancied
I was in the dining-room of the Adelphi Hotel at Liverpool, or at the
Grand Hotel in Paris. I must say, however, that there was neither
bread nor wine. The water was fresh and clear, but it was water and
did not suit Ned Land's taste. Amongst the dishes which were brought
to us, I recognised several fish delicately dressed; but of some,
although excellen