They were examining the situation of the vessel, and exchanging words in their incomprehensible dialect.
She was situated thus: Two miles, on the starboard side, appeared Gilboa, stretching from north to west like an immense arm.

Towards the south and east some coral showed itself, left by the ebb.

We had run aground, and in one of those seas where the tides are middling--a sorry matter for the floating of the Nautilus.

However, the vessel had not suffered, for her keel was solidly joined.

But, if she could neither glide off nor move, she ran the risk of being for ever fastened to these rocks, and then Captain Nemo's submarine vessel would be done for.
I was reflecting thus, when the Captain, cool and calm, always master of himself, approached me.
"An accident ?" I asked.
"No; an incident." "But an incident that will oblige you perhaps to become an inhabitant of this land from which you flee ?" Captain Nemo looked at me curiously, and made a negative gesture, as much as to say that nothing would force him to set foot on terra firma again.