The shot rattled about us as we stood on the opened upper deck of the submarine, and Ned Land, in a mad moment, waved his handkerchief to the enemy, only to be instantly felled by the iron hand of Captain Nemo.  Then, frightfully pale, the captain turned towards the approaching man-o’-war, and, in a voice terrible to hear, cried:  “Ah, ship of an accursed nation, you know who I am!  I do not need to see your colours to know you.  Look, and see mine!”

So saying, he unfurled his black flag, and then sternly bade us go below, just as a shell struck the Nautilus, and rebounded into the sea.  “You have seen the attack,” he said calmly.  “I shall sink yonder ship, but not here—­no, not here.  Her ruins shall not mingle with those of the Avenger.”

V.—­The Doom of the Oppressor

Having no choice but to obey, we all went below, and the propeller of the Nautilus was soon lashing the water into creamy foam, taking us beyond the range of fire.  I held my peace for a time, but, after some deliberation, ventured to go up in the hope of dissuading Captain Nemo from more destruction.  His vessel was now coursing round the other ship like a wild beast manoeuvring to attack its prey, and I had scarcely spoken when the captain turned on me fiercely, commanding silence.

“Here I am the law and the judge,” he said, almost in a shriek.  “There is the oppressor.  Through him I have lost all that I have loved, cherished, and venerated—­country, wife, children, father, and mother.  I saw all perish!  All that I hate is represented by that ship!  Not another word!”

In the face of such fierce hatred it was useless to try persuasion.  I and my companions resolved to attempt escape when the Nautilus made the attack.  At six the next morning, being the second day of June, the two vessels were less than a mile and a half apart.  Suddenly, as the three of us were preparing to rush on deck and jump overboard, the upper panel closed sharply.  Our chance was gone!

Next moment the noise of the water rushing into the reservoir indicated that we were sinking, and in a moment more the machinery throbbed at its greatest speed as the Nautilus shot forward under the sea.  Then the whole submarine trembled; there was a shock, and then a rending jar above.  The terror of the seas had cut its way through the other vessel like a needle through sailcloth!  Horror-stricken, I rushed into the saloon and found Captain Nemo, mute and gloomy, standing by the port panel, which had instantly been slid back, watching with a terrible satisfaction the injured vessel sinking with all its crew beneath the waves.  The Nautilus sank with it, so that its terrible captain might lose nothing of the fascinating horror presented by the spectacle of his victims descending to their ocean grave.  When we had seen all, he went to his room, and, following him, I saw on the wall the portraits of a woman, still young, and two little children.  He looked at them, and as he stretched his arms toward them the fierce expression of hate died away from his face.  He sank down on his knees, and burst into deep sobs.  I felt a strange horror for this man, who, though he might have suffered terribly, had no right to exact so terrible a vengeance.