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Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
Chapter 39. WANT OF AIR
So around the Nautilus, above and below, there was an impenetrable wall of ice.
We were prisoners of the iceberg, I watched the Captain.
His face had returned to its usual calm.
"Gentlemen," he said calmly, "there are two ways of dying in our current situation.", This puzzling man had the air of a math professor teaching his students.
"The first is to be crushed."
"The second is to die of suffocation."
"I don't speak of the possibility of dying of hunger, because the Nautilus's food supply will certainly last longer than we'll."
"So let's calculate our chances."
"As for suffocation, Captain," I replied, "that's not something to fear, because our air tanks are full."
"Exactly. But they'll only give us two days' supply of air."
"Now we have been under the water for thirty-six hours, and the heavy air inside the Nautilus needs renewal, in forty-eight hours our reserve will be empty".
"Well, Captain, can we be free before forty-eight hours?"
"We'll try, at least, by breaking through the wall that surrounds us."
"On which side?"
"Sound will tell us."
"I'm going to run the Nautilus aground on the lower bank, and my men will attack the iceberg on the side that's least thick."
Captain Nemo went out, Soon I heard a hissing noise that told me the water was entering the tanks.
The Nautilus sank slowly and rested on the ice at a depth of 350 yards, the depth where the lower bank was.
"My friends," I said, "our situation is serious, but I trust your courage and energy."
"Sir," replied the Canadian, "I'm ready to do anything for the general safety."
"Good, Ned." I held out my hand to the Canadian.
"I'll add," he continued, "that since I'm as good with a pickaxe as with a harpoon, if I can be useful to the Captain, he can command my services."
"He won't refuse your help. Come, Ned!"
I led him to the room where the crew of the Nautilus were putting on their cork jackets.
I told the Captain about Ned's offer, which he accepted.
The Canadian put on his sea costume and was ready as soon as his companions.
When Ned was dressed, I went back into the drawing-room, where the glass panes were open.
Standing near Conseil, I examined the surrounding ice beds that held the Nautilus.
A few moments later, I saw a dozen crew members step onto the ice bank.
Among them was Ned Land, easy to recognize by his height, Captain Nemo was with them.
Before starting to dig the walls, he took soundings to make sure he was working in the right direction.
Long sounding lines were sunk into the side walls, but after fifteen yards they were stopped by the thick wall again.
It was useless to attack the ceiling-like surface, since the iceberg itself measured more than 400 yards high.
Captain Nemo then sounded the lower surface.
There, ten yards of wall separated us from the water.
The ice field was that thick, so we needed to cut out a piece as big as the Nautilus's waterline.
That meant about 6,000 cubic yards to remove, to dig a hole through which we could descend to the ice field.
The work began immediately and continued with tireless energy.
Instead of digging around the Nautilus, which would have been more difficult, Captain Nemo had a huge trench made eight yards from the port side.
Then the men started working at the same time with their screws on several points around it.
Soon the pickaxe attacked this hard matter strongly, and large blocks were broken off.
By a strange effect of specific gravity, these blocks, lighter than water, flew up to the roof of the tunnel.
The roof grew thicker at the top as it became thinner at the bottom.
But that didn't matter, as long as the lower part got thinner.
After two hours of hard work, Ned Land came in exhausted.
He and his friends were replaced by new workers, whom Conseil and I joined.
The second officer of the Nautilus supervised us.
The water seemed strangely cold, but I soon got warm handling the pickaxe.
My movements were free enough, even though they were made under a pressure of thirty atmospheres.
After working two hours, I came back inside to eat and rest.
I noticed a clear difference between the pure air from the Rouquayrol machine and the air of the Nautilus.
The Nautilus's air was already full of carbon dioxide.
The air hadn't been renewed for forty-eight hours, and its life-giving qualities were much weaker.
However, after twelve hours, we had only removed a block of ice one yard thick from the marked surface, which was about 600 cubic yards.
Figuring that it took twelve hours to do this much, it would take five nights and four days to finish this job.
Five nights and four days, and we only had enough air for two days in the tanks.
"Not to mention," said Ned.
"That even if we get out of this terrible prison, we'll still be trapped under the iceberg, cut off from any contact with the air."
That was true, Who could then guess the minimum time needed for our escape?
We might suffocate before the Nautilus could reach the surface of the waves.
Was it meant to die in this ice tomb, with everyone inside it? The situation was terrible.
But everyone had looked the danger in the face, and each person was determined to do his duty to the end.
As I expected, during the night a new block one yard square was removed, and the huge hollow got even deeper.
I put on my cork jacket in the morning.
The temperature was six or seven degrees below zero.
I walked through the slushy mass, I noticed the side walls were slowly closing in.
The beds of water farthest from the trench, which weren't warmed by the men's work, showed a tendency to freeze.
Faced with this new and immediate danger, what would happen to our chances of safety?
How could we stop the freezing of this liquid, which would burst the walls of the Nautilus like glass?
I didn't tell my companions about this new danger.
What was the point of weakening the energy they showed in the painful work of escape?
But when I went back on board, I told Captain Nemo about this serious problem.
"I know it," he said, in that calm tone that could fight off the worst fears.
"It's one more danger."
"But I see no way to escape it."
"The only chance for safety is to move faster than the freezing."
"We have to beat it, that's all."
On this day, I used my pickaxe hard for several hours, the work kept me going.
Besides, working meant leaving the Nautilus and breathing the pure air directly from the tanks, supplied by our equipment.
It also meant leaving the poor, polluted air.
Towards evening, the trench was dug one yard deeper.
When I returned on board, I was nearly suffocated by the carbon dioxide that filled the air.
Ah, if only we had the chemical means to remove this harmful gas, we had plenty of oxygen.
All this water contained a large amount, and by dissolving it with our powerful electric piles, it would give back the life-giving fluid.
I had thought about it carefully for some time before coming to that conclusion.
But what good was that, since the carbon dioxide from our breathing had invaded every part of the ship?
To absorb it, we needed to fill some jars with caustic potash and shake them constantly.
But this substance wasn't on board, and nothing could replace it.
That evening, Captain Nemo had to open the taps of his tanks and let some pure air into the inside of the Nautilus.
Without this step, we couldn't get rid of the feeling of suffocation.
The next day, March 26th, I started my miner's work again, beginning the fifth yard.
The side walls and the lower surface of the iceberg were getting noticeably thicker.
It was clear that they'd meet before the Nautilus could free itself.
Despair grabbed me for a moment, My pickaxe almost fell from my hands.
What was the point of digging if I had to suffocate, crushed by the water that was turning into stone?
A punishment that even the cruelty of savages wouldn't have invented.
Just then, Captain Nemo passed near me.
I touched his hand and showed him the walls of our prison.
The wall to the left had come to within at least four yards of the Nautilus's hull.
The Captain understood me and signaled me to follow him.
We went on board, I took off my cork jacket and went with him into the drawing-room.
"Mr. Aronnax, we must try some desperate method, or we'll be sealed up in this frozen water like cement."
"Yes, but what can we do?"
"Ah, if only my Nautilus were strong enough to bear this pressure without being crushed."
"Well?" I asked, not understanding the Captain's idea.
"Don't you understand,"
He replied, "Won't this freezing of water help us?"
"Don't you see that by solidifying it will burst through this ice field that traps us?"
"It will burst stones when it freezes and become a tool for safety, not destruction".
"Yes, Captain, maybe. But no matter how much crushing the Nautilus can resist, it couldn't handle this terrible pressure. It would be flattened like an iron plate."
"I know that, sir."
"So we mustn't count on nature's help, but on our own efforts."
"We must stop this freezing."
"Not only are the side walls closing in, but there isn't ten feet of water in front of or behind the Nautilus."
"The freezing is closing in on us from all sides."
"How long will the air in the tanks last for us to breathe on board?"
The Captain looked long and steadily at my pallid, terrified face.
"After tomorrow, they'll be empty."
A cold sweat came over me, but should I have been surprised by his answer?
On March 22nd, the Nautilus was in the open polar seas.
We were at 26 degrees, For five days, we had lived on the reserve on board.
And what was left of the breathable air had to be saved for the workers.
Even now, as I write, my memory is still so strong that an involuntary terror grabs me, and my lungs seem to have no air.
Meanwhile, Captain Nemo thought silently, Clearly, an idea had come to him, but he seemed to reject it.
Finally, at last, these words escaped his lips in a low, tired voice.
"Boiling water," he muttered.
"Boiling water?" I cried.
"Yes, sir. We're enclosed in a relatively small space. Wouldn't jets of boiling water, constantly pumped in, raise the temperature in this area and stop the freezing?"
"Let's try it," I said firmly.
"Let's try it, Professor."
The thermometer outside then read 7 degrees below zero.
Captain Nemo took me to the galleys, where the big distilling machines stood that provided drinking water by evaporation.
They filled these with water, and all the electric heat from the piles was sent through the coils bathed in the liquid.
In a few minutes, this water reached 100 degrees.
It was directed towards the pumps, while fresh water replaced it in proportion.
The heat from the troughs was so strong that cold sea water, after passing the machines, came boiling into the pump.
The injection began, Three hours later, the thermometer outside read 6 degrees below zero.
One degree had been gained, Two hours later, the thermometer only read 4 degrees below zero.
"We'll succeed," I said to the Captain, after watching the result of the operation anxiously.
"I think," he answered, "that we won't be crushed. We no longer have to fear suffocation."
During the night, the temperature of the water rose to 1 degree below zero.
The injections couldn't raise it any higher.
But since sea water freezes at least at 2 degrees below zero, I was at least reassured against the danger of freezing.
The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been cleared.
Only twelve feet remained to be cleared away.
There was still forty-eight hours of work.
The air couldn't be renewed inside the Nautilus.
And this day would make it worse.
An unbearable weight pressed on me, Towards three o'clock in the evening, this feeling grew to a violent level.
Yawns stretched my jaws, My lungs gasped as they breathed in this burning fluid, which was getting thinner and thinner.
A mental tiredness took hold of me.
I was powerless, almost unconscious, My brave Conseil, though showing the same symptoms and suffering the same way, never left me.
He took my hand and encouraged me, and I heard him murmur,
"Oh, if I could only not breathe, so I could leave more air for my master."
Tears came to my eyes when I heard him speak like that.
If our situation was unbearable for everyone inside, how quickly and gladly we put on our cork jackets to work in our turn.
Pickaxes hit the frozen ice beds, Our arms ached.
The skin was torn off our hands.
But what did these tirednesses matter? What did the wounds matter?
Life-giving air came to our lungs, we breathed, we breathed.
All this time, no one stayed at his voluntary task longer than the set time.
When his task was done, each person handed his life-giving equipment to his gasping companion.
Captain Nemo set the example and was the first to follow this strict rule.
When his time came, he gave his equipment to another and returned to the bad air on board, calm, unshaken, and without complaint.
On that day, the usual work was done with unusual energy.
Only two yards remained to be removed from the surface.
Only two yards separated us from the open sea.
But the tanks were almost empty of air.
The little that remained had to be saved for the workers.
Not a bit for the Nautilus, When I went back on board, I was half suffocated.
What a night, I don't know how to describe it.
The next day, my breathing was heavy.
Dizziness came with the pain in my head and made me feel like a drunk man.
My companions showed the same symptoms, Some of the crew had rattling sounds in their throats.
On the sixth day, Captain Nemo, finding pickaxes too slow, decided to crush the ice bed still separating us from the liquid water.
This man's coolness and energy never left him.
He overcame his physical pain with mental strength.
By his orders, the ship was lightened.
That's, it was raised from the ice bed by a change in specific gravity.
When it floated, they towed it to bring it above the huge trench that had been made at the waterline level.
Then, filling his water tanks, he went down and shut himself in the hole.
Just then, all the crew came on board, and the double door of communication was shut.
The Nautilus then rested on the ice bed, which was less than one yard thick and which the sounding leads had pierced in a thousand places.
The taps of the tanks were opened, and a hundred cubic yards of water let in, raising the Nautilus's weight to 1,800 tons.
We waited, we listened, forgetting our sufferings in hope.
Our safety depended on this last chance.
Despite the buzzing in my head, I soon heard a humming sound under the hull of the Nautilus.
The ice cracked with a strange noise, like tearing paper, and the Nautilus sank.
"We're off," murmured Conseil in my ear.
I couldn't answer him, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.
All at once, carried away by its terrible extra weight, the Nautilus sank like a bullet under the water.
That's, it fell as if it were in a vacuum.
Then all the electric power was put on the pumps, which soon began to let the water out of the tanks.
After a few minutes, our fall stopped.
Soon, the pressure gauge showed an upward movement.
The propeller, going at full speed, made the iron hull tremble to its very bolts and pulled us towards the north.
But if this floating under the iceberg lasted another day before we reached the open sea, I'd be dead first.
Half lying on a sofa in the library, I was suffocating.
My face was purple, My lips were blue.
My senses were gone, I couldn't see or hear.
All sense of time had left my mind, My muscles couldn't move.
I don't know how many hours passed like this, but I was aware of the death that was coming over me.
I felt as if I was going to die.
Suddenly, I came back to life, Some breaths of air entered my lungs.
Had we risen to the surface of the waves?
Were we free of the iceberg? No.
Ned and Conseil, my two brave friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me.
Some particles of air still remained at the bottom of one machine.
Instead of using it, they had kept it for me.
And while they were suffocating, they gave me life, drop by drop.
I wanted to push the thing away.
They held my hands, and for a few moments I breathed freely.
I looked at the clock, it was eleven in the morning.
It must be March 28th, the Nautilus was moving at a terrible speed, forty miles an hour.
It was literally tearing through the water.
Where was Captain Nemo? Had he died? Were his companions dead with him?
At that moment, the pressure gauge showed that we were no more than twenty feet from the surface.
A simple sheet of ice separated us from the air.
Couldn't we break it? Maybe, In any case, the Nautilus was going to try.
I felt that it was in a tilted position, lowering the stern and raising the bow.
The introduction of water had disturbed its balance.
Then, pushed by its powerful propeller, it attacked the ice field from below like a terrible battering ram.
It broke it by backing up and then rushing forward against the field, which slowly gave way.
And finally, dashing suddenly against it, it shot forward onto the ice field, which crushed under its weight.
The panel was opened, One might say it was torn off.
And the pure air came in abundantly to all parts of the Nautilus.