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Updated: May 8, 2025
All these hypotheses seemed extremely plausible to me, and to hope for freedom through use of force, you had to be a harpooner. I realized, moreover, that Ned Land's brooding was getting him madder by the minute. Little by little, I heard those aforesaid cusswords welling up in the depths of his gullet, and I saw his movements turn threatening again.
Anyhow, to be on the safe side, I yelled "Vite!" a while and then "Doucement" a while; and then "Doucement" and "Vite!" alternately, and mixed in a few short, simple Anglo-Saxon cusswords and prayers for dressing. But nothing I said seemed to have the least effect on that demoniac scoundrel. Without turning his head he merely shouted back something unintelligible and threw on more juice.
"Complaining doesn't have to do good, it just feels good! And if these pirates I say pirates out of consideration for the professor's feelings, since he doesn't want us to call them cannibals if these pirates think they're going to smother me in this cage without hearing what cusswords spice up my outbursts, they've got another think coming! Look here, Professor Aronnax, speak frankly.
Bang! goes the gat again and Mister Squirrel's tail is chopped plumb in two and then he ducks down his hole by the side of the trail and we hear him squealing and chattering cusswords at us. "I never see such shooting in my life. But Perris puts up his gun and gets red as a girl when two gents ask her for the same dance. "'I'm plumb out of practice, he says.
But, take it from me, that sharp-faced little wisp could do things to a violin! Zowie! He could just naturally make it sing, with weeps and laughs, and moans and giggles, and groans and cusswords, all strung along a jumpy, jerky little air that sort of played hide and seek with itself. Music? I should quiver!
Of all the dummed outrages to spring on a man, that " "Shadrach!" "There, there, Zoeth! I'll calm down. But as for swearin' well, if you knew how full of cusswords I was there one spell you wouldn't find fault; you'd thank me for holdin' 'em in. I had to batten down my hatches to do it, though; I tell you that." Mr. Hamilton turned to their host.
"Well, all I can say is, he's doing as well as could be expected. Temperature normal, pulse fluctuating, appetite good, respiration improved by a good many cusswords, mustard plaster itching like all get out, but otherwise he's at the point of death. I was in to see him after breakfast.
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