“My boy,” said I, “when I feigned to believe that his _Nautilus_ was threatened by the natives of Papua, the Captain answered me very sarcastically. I have but one thing to say to you: Have confidence in him, and go to sleep in peace.” “Have you no need of my services, sir?” “No, my friend. What is Ned Land doing?” “If you will excuse me, sir,” answered Conseil, “friend Ned is busy making a kangaroo-pie which will be a marvel.” I remained alone and went to bed, but slept indifferently. I heard the noise of the savages, who stamped on the platform, uttering deafening cries. The night passed thus, without disturbing the ordinary repose of the crew. The presence of these cannibals affected them no more than the soldiers of a masked battery care for the ants that crawl over its front. At six in the morning I rose. The hatches had not been opened. The inner air was not renewed, but the reservoirs, filled ready for any emergency, were now resorted to, and discharged several cubic feet of oxygen into the exhausted atmosphere of the _Nautilus_. I worked in my room till noon, without having seen Captain Nemo, even for an instant. On board no preparations for departure were visible. I waited still some time, then went into the large saloon. The clock marked half-past two. In ten minutes it would be high-tide: and, if Captain Nemo had not made a rash promise, the _Nautilus_ would be immediately detached. If not, many months would pass ere she could leave her bed of coral. However, some warning vibrations began to be felt in the vessel. I heard the keel grating against the rough calcareous bottom of the coral reef. At five-and-twenty minutes to three, Captain Nemo appeared in the saloon. “We are going to start,” said he. “Ah!” replied I. “I have given the order to open the hatches.” “And the Papuans?” “The Papuans?” answered Captain Nemo, slightly shrugging his shoulders. “Will they not come inside the _Nautilus?_” “How?” “Only by leaping over the hatches you have opened.” “M. Aronnax,” quietly answered Captain Nemo, “they will not enter the hatches of the _Nautilus_ in that way, even if they were open.” I looked at the Captain. “You do not understand?” said he. “Hardly.” “Well, come and you will see.” I directed my steps towards the central staircase. There Ned Land and Conseil were slyly watching some of the ship’s crew, who were opening the hatches, while cries of rage and fearful vociferations resounded outside. The port lids were pulled down outside. Twenty horrible faces appeared. But the first native who placed his hand on the stair-rail, struck from behind by some invisible force, I know not what, fled, uttering the most fearful cries and making the wildest contortions. Ten of his companions followed him. They met with the same fate. Conseil was in ecstasy. Ned Land, carried away by his violent instincts, rushed on to the staircase. But the moment he seized the rail with both hands, he, in his turn, was overthrown.