Chapter IX. A Vanished Continent.

The next morning, the 19th of February, I saw the Canadian enter my room. I expected

this visit. He looked very disappointed.

Well, sir, said he. Well, Ned, fortune was against us yesterday.

Yes, that captain must need stop exactly at the hour we intended leaving his vessel.

Yes, Ned, he had business at his bankers. His bankers? Or rather his banking house, by

that I mean the ocean, where his riches are safer than in the chest of the state.

I then related to the Canadian the incidents of the preceding night, hoping to bring him

back to the idea of not abandoning the captain. But my recital had no other result than an

energetically expressed regret from Ned that he had not been able to take a walk on the

battlefield of Vigo on his own account.

However, said he. All is not ended. It is only a blow of the Harpoon Maust. Another time

we must succeed. And tonight, if necessary.

In what direction is the Nautilus going, I asked. I do not know, replied Ned.

Well, at noon we shall see the point.

The Canadian returned to Cone say. As soon as I was dressed I went into the saloon. The

compass was not reassuring. The course of the Nautilus was south-south-west. We were

turning our backs on Europe.

I waited with some impatience to the ship's place was pricked on the chart. At about half

past eleven the reservoirs were emptied, and our vessel rose to the surface of the ocean.

I rushed towards the platform. Ned land had preceded me. No more land in sight. Nothing

but an immense sea.

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