It was an opportunity for him to talk, and for me to hear, that old language of Rabelais, which is still in use in some Canadian provinces.

The harpooner's family was originally from Quebec, and was already a tribe of hardy fishermen when this town belonged to France.
Little by little, Ned Land acquired a taste for chatting, and I loved to hear the recital of his adventures in the polar seas.

He related his fishing, and his combats, with natural poetry of expression; his recital took the form of an epic poem, and I seemed to be listening to a Canadian Homer singing the Iliad of the regions of the North.
I am portraying this hardy companion as I really knew him.

We are old friends now, united in that unchangeable friendship which is born and cemented amidst extreme dangers.

Ah, brave Ned! I ask no more than to live a hundred years longer, that I may have more time to dwell the longer on your memory.
Now, what was Ned Land's opinion upon the question of the marine monster?
I must admit that he did not believe in the unicorn, and was the only one on board who did not share that universal conviction.