“All right,” the Canadian said, “then why should there be any more than that?”
“Why?” I answered.
I stared at Ned Land, whose motives were easy to guess.
“Because,” I said, “if I can trust my hunches, if I truly understand the captain’s way of life, his Nautilus isn’t simply a ship. It’s meant to be a refuge for people like its commander, people who have severed all ties with the shore.”
“Perhaps,” Conseil said, “but in a nutshell, the Nautilus can hold only a certain number of men, so couldn’t master estimate their maximum?”
“How, Conseil?”
“By calculating it. Master is familiar with the ship’s capacity, hence the amount of air it contains; on the other hand, master knows how much air each man consumes in the act of breathing, and he can compare this data with the fact that the Nautilus must rise to the surface every twenty-four hours . . .”
Conseil didn’t finish his sentence, but I could easily see what he was driving at.
“I follow you,” I said. “But while they’re simple to do, such calculations can give only a very uncertain figure.”
“No problem,” the Canadian went on insistently.