No, it was Ned and Conseil, my two brave friends, who were sacrificing themselves to save me. Some molecules of air still remained in some of the apparatus, and instead of respiring them they had preserved them for me, and though almost suffocating, they gave it to me drop by drop. I wished to push the apparatus away. They held my hands, and for a few moments I respired voluptuously.
My eyes turned to the clock. It was 11 a.m. It was then the 28th March. The Nautilus was speeding at forty miles an hour, tearing through the water. Where were Captain Nemo and his companions? Had they all succumbed?
At this moment the manometer indicated that we were only twenty feet from the surface. A simple layer of ice separated us from the atmosphere. Could we not break through it?
Perhaps so. In any case the Nautilus would try. I could feel it assume an oblique position, and elevate its spur. The introduction of water was sufficient for this change. Then, impelled by the powerful screw, it attacked the ice-field like a formidable battering ram. It broke it by degrees, by retiring and then attacking it with renewed force against the ice-field, which gave way, and at last, carried upwards by its impetus, it crushed down upon the icy fragments, which it splintered beneath its weight.
The panels were opened—torn open I may say—and fresh pure air from the sea permeated all parts of the Nautilus once again.
