“My friends,” I said, “we mustn’t despair. We’ve gotten out of tighter spots. So please do me the favor of waiting a bit before you form your views on the commander and crew of this boat.” “My views are fully formed,” Ned Land shot back. “They’re rogues!” “Oh good! And from what country?” “Roguedom!” “My gallant Ned, as yet that country isn’t clearly marked on maps of the world, but I admit that the nationality of these two strangers is hard to make out! Neither English, French, nor German, that’s all we can say. But I’m tempted to think that the commander and his chief officer were born in the low latitudes. There must be southern blood in them. But as to whether they’re Spaniards, Turks, Arabs, or East Indians, their physical characteristics don’t give me enough to go on. And as for their speech, it’s utterly incomprehensible.” “That’s the nuisance in not knowing every language,” Conseil replied, “or the drawback in not having one universal language!” “Which would all go out the window!” Ned Land replied. “Don’t you see, these people have a language all to themselves, a language they’ve invented just to cause despair in decent people who ask for a little dinner! Why, in every country on earth, when you open your mouth, snap your jaws, smack your lips and teeth, isn’t that the world’s most understandable message? From Quebec to the Tuamotu Islands, from Paris to the Antipodes, doesn’t it mean: I’m hungry, give me a bite to eat!” “Oh,” Conseil put in, “there are some people so unintelligent by nature . . .” As he was saying these words, the door opened. A steward entered.* He brought us some clothes, jackets and sailor’s pants, made out of a fabric whose nature I didn’t recognize. I hurried to change into them, and my companions followed suit. *Author’s Note: A steward is a waiter on board a steamer. Meanwhile our silent steward, perhaps a deaf-mute, set the table and laid three place settings. “There’s something serious afoot,” Conseil said, “and it bodes well.” “Bah!” replied the rancorous harpooner. “What the devil do you suppose they eat around here? Turtle livers, loin of shark, dogfish steaks?” “We’ll soon find out!” Conseil said.