I had no idea how long we slept. But it must have been a very long time, because the deep sleep completely restored our strength.
I woke up first.
Ned and Conseil had not moved. They were still lying in the corner of the room, sleeping peacefully.
I sat up slowly from my uncomfortable bed. My mind felt clear again, and my thoughts returned.
I began to carefully examine our prison.
Nothing had changed.
It was still a prison.
We were still prisoners.
The only difference was that the steward had removed the dishes from the table while we were asleep.
But something was wrong.
The air inside was heavy and difficult to breathe.
Although the room was large enough, we had clearly used up much of the oxygen.
Every person consumes a certain amount of oxygen from the air while breathing, and after being mixed with too much carbon dioxide, the air becomes dangerous and impossible to breathe.
The air in our room needed to be replaced.
Most likely, the entire submarine needed fresh air as well.
This made me wonder.
How did the commander of this strange underwater vessel solve this problem?
Did he use chemical methods, producing oxygen with chemicals and removing carbon dioxide with another substance?
Or was there a simpler and more practical way?
Perhaps the submarine simply rose to the surface of the ocean from time to time, just like whales coming up to breathe.
That seemed much more likely.
I was already breathing faster, trying to get as much oxygen as possible from the poor air in the room, when suddenly a fresh current of air rushed over me.
It was clean and cool, carrying the salty smell of the sea.
It was a powerful ocean breeze filled with the scent of iodine.
I opened my mouth wide and took deep breaths. My lungs filled with fresh air.
At the same moment, I felt the submarine begin to move gently.
The iron monster had risen to the surface.
It was breathing like a whale.
Now I understood how the vessel renewed its air.
I searched for the pipe that brought this fresh air into our room.
I found it quickly.
Above the door was a ventilation opening. Through it, fresh air flowed continuously, replacing the stale air inside our prison.
While I was examining it, Ned and Conseil woke up almost at the same time because of the fresh breeze.
They rubbed their eyes, stretched their arms, and quickly stood up.
“Did you sleep well, master?” Conseil asked politely.
“Very well, my brave friend. And you, Mr. Land?”
“I slept like a rock, Professor,” Ned replied. “But tell me, am I mistaken, or is there a sea breeze blowing in here?”
“A sailor’s senses are rarely wrong,” I said. “You are right. While you were sleeping, I discovered that the submarine rose to the surface to take in fresh air.”
“Good!” Ned said. “That explains those strange noises we heard when the creature was near the Abraham Lincoln.”
“Exactly, Master Land. That was the submarine taking a breath.”
Ned looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Professor, I have no idea what time it is. But I have a feeling it must be dinner time.”
“Dinner time? My dear Land, it is probably breakfast time. We have clearly entered a new day.”
“So,” Conseil asked, “have we slept for twenty-four hours?”
“That is what I believe.”
“I will not argue with you,” Ned said. “But whether it is breakfast or dinner, I hope the steward brings something soon.”
“Master Land,” I said, “we must follow the rules of this vessel. I suspect our hunger has arrived before the proper meal time.”
“That sounds exactly like you, Conseil,” Ned said impatiently.
“You never lose your calm. You would probably thank them politely before a meal and starve without saying a word!”
Time continued to pass.
Our hunger became unbearable.
But the steward did not appear.
If the people aboard this submarine truly meant us no harm, it was strange that they would leave us alone for so long.
Ned Land became more and more furious.
Despite his promise to remain calm, I feared what would happen if he met one of the crew members.
For two more hours, Ned’s anger grew.
He shouted.
He cursed.
He pounded on the walls.
But nobody answered.
The walls remained silent.
There was no sound anywhere inside the submarine.
The vessel was completely still.
The engine was not running, and I could feel no movement from the propeller.
Deep beneath the ocean, separated from the world above, the silence felt terrifying.
I was frightened.
Conseil remained calm.
Ned Land roared with anger.
Then suddenly, we heard a noise outside.
Footsteps moved across the metal floor.
The locks turned.
The door opened.
The steward appeared.
Before I could move forward to stop him, Ned Land attacked.
The Canadian threw him to the ground and grabbed his throat with his powerful hand.
The steward struggled for breath under Ned’s grip.
Conseil immediately rushed forward, trying to pull the harpooner’s hand away from the nearly unconscious man.
I was about to help when a voice suddenly stopped me.
The words were spoken in French.
“Be quiet, Master Land. And you, Professor, would you kindly listen to me?”