On the night of December 27 the Nautilus left Vanikoro at great speed and headed southwest.
Early on January 1, 1868, Conseil joined me on the platform.
“Will master allow me to wish master a happy New Year?”
“Thank you, Conseil. But what do you mean by a happy year, here? A year that ends our imprisonment, or one that continues this strange voyage?”
“Really, I do not know. Each new wonder is more astonishing than the last. So I think a happy year would be one in which we could see everything.”
On January 4 we reached the coast of New Guinea, and the Nautilus entered the Torres Strait, a passage full of islands, reefs and rocks that sailors rightly fear. My companions and I stood on the platform while the sea broke furiously on the coral all around us.
“This is a bad sea!” said Ned. “One touch from that coral, and the hull would be torn open.”
But the Nautilus seemed to slide between the rocks as if by magic. At three in the afternoon, near the island of Gilboa, a shock threw me off my feet. We had struck a rock. The ship stopped, leaning a little to one side, and did not move again. The hull was not damaged, but the tide was going out, and if the ship could not float again, it might stay stuck on the coral forever.
Captain Nemo came toward me, as calm as ever.
“An accident?” I asked.
“No. An incident.”
“But an incident that may force you to live on the land you have fled.”
He gave me a strange look and shook his head, as if nothing in the world could make him set foot on land again.
“The Nautilus is not lost, Professor. Our voyage has only begun, and I do not wish to lose the honor of your company so soon. Today is January 4, and in five days the moon will be full. I shall be very surprised if it does not lift the sea high enough to float us off.”
When he had gone below, Ned shrugged. “Professor, this piece of iron will never sail again. It’s time to say goodbye to Captain Nemo.”
“Escape might be possible near England or France, Ned, but not on the shores of New Guinea.”
“Then at least let’s go ashore! There’s an island, there are trees, and under those trees there are animals: walking chops and steaks!”
“Ned is right,” said Conseil. “Could master not ask his friend Captain Nemo to let us go ashore, so that we do not forget how to walk?”
To my great surprise, Captain Nemo agreed, and very kindly. He did not even ask me to promise that we would come back. But an escape across New Guinea would have been very dangerous, and I would not have advised Ned to try it.
The next morning, armed with guns and axes, we rowed to the island in the boat. Ned could hardly hide his joy. He was like a prisoner who has escaped and forgets that he must go back.
“Meat!” he said. “Real meat! Fish is good, but a piece of fresh game grilled over hot coals…”
“Greedy man!” said Conseil. “He is making my mouth water.”
When the boat touched the sand, Ned stamped on the ground as if he were taking possession of it. Tall trees hid the whole horizon, but Ned cared more for what was useful than for what was beautiful. He knocked down some coconuts, and then, in the forest, we found breadfruit. Ned lit a fire, cut the ripe fruit into thick slices and roasted them on the coals.
“If you don’t come back for more, Professor, I’m no longer the king of harpooners!”
He was right. Inside, the roasted fruit was soft and white, with a taste like artichoke, and I ate a great deal of it. In the evening we rowed back to the Nautilus with a boatload of fruit and vegetables. Nobody came to meet us. The huge iron ship seemed deserted.
The next day we went back. Ned led us inland on his long legs to a wood full of birds: parrots of every color, and birds of paradise with long, magnificent feathers. We could only shoot at them in flight, and we wasted half our bullets. By eleven Conseil had brought down two pigeons, and we roasted them, but Ned was not satisfied.
“I won’t be happy until I’ve killed an animal with chops on it, Professor.”
“And I won’t be happy until I have a bird of paradise.”
An hour later Conseil, who was walking ahead, bent down, gave a cry of triumph and came back with a magnificent bird of paradise in his hands. It was alive.
“Bravo, Conseil!”
“Master is very kind, but I do not deserve much praise. This bird is drunk. It ate too many nutmegs under the tree where I found it. Look, Ned, look at the terrible effects of drinking!”
Its feathers were yellow, brown, purple and emerald green; it could not fly and could hardly walk.
At about two o’clock Ned shot a wild pig, and then he and Conseil drove a group of kangaroos out of the bushes. Ned fired again and again.
“Two! Three! Five!” cried Ned. “Think of all that meat for the Nautilus! And those fools on board won’t get a bite!”
At six we were back on the beach. The Nautilus lay out at sea like a long rock. Ned grilled pork chops over the coals, and with the pigeons, the breadfruit, mangoes, pineapples and a drink made from coconuts, we had a splendid dinner. I think my companions’ heads were not quite as clear as usual.
“What if we did not go back to the Nautilus tonight?” said Conseil.
“What if we never went back?” said Ned.
At that moment a stone fell at our feet.