A strong southerly gale was blowing.
The sea was swollen and billowy; it made the Nautilus rock violently.
It was almost impossible to keep one's foot on the platform,
which the heavy rolls of the sea beat over every instant.
So we descended after inhaling some mouthfuls of fresh air.
I returned to my room, Conseil to his cabin; but the Canadian,
with a preoccupied air, followed me. Our rapid passage across
the Mediterranean had not allowed him to put his project
into execution, and he could not help showing his disappointment.
When the door of my room was shut, he sat down and looked
at me silently.
"Friend Ned," said I, "I understand you; but you cannot reproach yourself.
To have attempted to leave the Nautilus under the circumstances would
have been folly."
Ned Land did not answer; his compressed lips and frowning brow showed
with him the violent possession this fixed idea had taken of his mind.
"Let us see," I continued; "we need not despair yet.
We are going up the coast of Portugal again; France and
England are not far off, where we can easily find refuge.
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