“In fact,” I said, “Mr. Land is right. And if we ever brought back to Europe or America a pearl worth millions, it would make the story of our adventures more authentic—and much more rewarding.” “That’s how I see it,” the Canadian said. “But,” said Conseil, who perpetually returned to the didactic side of things, “is this pearl fishing ever dangerous?” “No,” I replied quickly, “especially if one takes certain precautions.” “What risks would you run in a job like that?” Ned Land said. “Swallowing a few gulps of salt water?” “Whatever you say, Ned.” Then, trying to imitate Captain Nemo’s carefree tone, I asked, “By the way, gallant Ned, are you afraid of sharks?” “Me?” the Canadian replied. “I’m a professional harpooner! It’s my job to make a mockery of them!” “It isn’t an issue,” I said, “of fishing for them with a swivel hook, hoisting them onto the deck of a ship, chopping off the tail with a sweep of the ax, opening the belly, ripping out the heart, and tossing it into the sea.” “So it’s an issue of . . . ?” “Yes, precisely.” “In the water?” “In the water.” “Ye gods, just give me a good harpoon! You see, sir, these sharks are badly designed. They have to roll their bellies over to snap you up, and in the meantime . . .” Ned Land had a way of pronouncing the word “snap” that sent chills down the spine. “Well, how about you, Conseil? What are your feelings about these man-eaters?” “Me?” Conseil said. “I’m afraid I must be frank with master.” Good for you, I thought. “If master faces these sharks,” Conseil said, “I think his loyal manservant should face them with him!” CHAPTER 3 A Pearl Worth Ten Million NIGHT FELL. I went to bed. I slept pretty poorly. Man-eaters played a major role in my dreams. And I found it more or less appropriate that the French word for shark, requin, has its linguistic roots in the word requiem. The next day at four o’clock in the morning, I was awakened by the steward whom Captain Nemo had placed expressly at my service. I got up quickly, dressed, and went into the lounge. Captain Nemo was waiting for me. “Professor Aronnax,” he said to me, “are you ready to start?” “I’m ready.” “Kindly follow me.” “What about my companions, captain?” “They’ve been alerted and are waiting for us.” “Aren’t we going to put on our diving suits?” I asked. “Not yet. I haven’t let the Nautilus pull too near the coast, and we’re fairly well out from the Mannar oysterbank. But I have the skiff ready, and it will take us to the exact spot where we’ll disembark, which will save us a pretty long trek. It’s carrying our diving equipment, and we’ll suit up just before we begin our underwater exploring.”