“Savages!”
“Savages!” repeated Captain Nemo ironically. “And are you astonished at meeting savages anywhere on the earth? Savages! Where are they not? And are these savages worse than any others?”
“But, captain———”
“For my part,” he said, “I have met them everywhere.”
“Well,” said I, “if you do not wish to receive them on board you had better take some precautions.”
“Be at ease, Professor. There is nothing to worry about.”
“But these natives are numerous.”
“How many did you reckon them to be?”
“A hundred at least.”
“M. Aronnax,” replied Captain Nemo, who again turned to the instrument, “if all the natives of Papua were assembled on this coast, the Nautilus would have nothing to fear.”
The captain’s fingers ran over the notes, and I remarked that he only played the black keys, which gave his melodies an essentially Scotch tone. He soon forgot my presence, and was again plunged in the reverie from which I had aroused him, and which I did not again venture to disturb.
I remained alone for some hours, sometimes thinking of the savages, but not fearing them, as the confidence of the captain inspired me; sometimes forgetting them, to admire the beauties of the tropical night. My thoughts turned to France, following those zodiacal stars which would shine over it in a few hours. The moon shone brilliantly amidst the northern constellations.
