Around the Nautilus, above and below, there was nothing but an endless wall of ice.
We were completely trapped inside the iceberg.
I watched Captain Nemo carefully.
His face had returned to its usual calm and emotionless expression, as if the danger around us did not exist.
“Gentlemen,” he said quietly, “in our present situation, there are only two possible ways we can die.”
He spoke like a mathematics professor explaining a problem to his students.
“The first is to be crushed by the pressure of the ice. The second is to die from lack of air.”
“I will not mention starvation,” he continued, “because the food supplies aboard the Nautilus will certainly last longer than we will.”
“Therefore, let us calculate our chances.”
“Captain,” I replied, “there is no need to worry about air immediately. Our air tanks are completely filled.”
“That is true,” said Nemo.
“But those tanks only contain enough air for two days.”
“We have already been hidden beneath the water for thirty-six hours, and the atmosphere inside the Nautilus is already becoming heavy and unhealthy.”
“In forty-eight hours, our air supply will be gone.”
“Then, Captain, can we escape before those forty-eight hours pass?”
“We must try,” he answered.
“Our only hope is to break through the wall of ice surrounding us.”
“Which direction should we attack?”
“The sound will tell us.”
“I will place the Nautilus against the lower part of the iceberg. My men will then attack the weakest and thinnest section of the ice.”
After saying this, Captain Nemo left.
A moment later, I heard the sound of rushing water.
The water tanks were being filled.
Slowly, the Nautilus began to sink.
At last, it rested against the bottom of the iceberg, three hundred and fifty yards below the surface.
This was the depth where the lower ice shelf was located.
I turned to my companions.
“My friends, our situation is extremely serious.”
“But I trust in your courage and determination.”
“Sir,” replied Ned Land, “I am ready to do anything necessary for everyone’s safety.”
“Good, Ned.”
I held out my hand to him.
The Canadian continued:
“I may be a hunter with a harpoon, but I am also skilled with tools. If Captain Nemo needs another worker, he can count on me.”
“He will not refuse your help,” I said.
“Come with me, Ned.”
I led him to the room where the crew members of the Nautilus were putting on their diving suits.
I explained Ned’s offer to Captain Nemo.
The Captain accepted immediately.
Ned quickly put on his diving equipment and prepared himself alongside the others.
When he was ready, I returned to the observation room.
The glass panels were open, and I stood beside Conseil, looking out at the icy ground beneath the Nautilus.
A few moments later, we saw about twelve sailors step onto the frozen surface.
Among them was Ned Land, easily recognized because of his large frame.
Captain Nemo was also with them.
Before allowing the work to begin, he carefully examined the ice.
Long measuring lines were lowered into the surrounding walls.
But after fifteen yards, they struck solid ice again.
The upper surface was useless to attack.
The iceberg rose more than four hundred yards above us.
Captain Nemo then examined the lower surface.
There, only ten yards of ice separated us from the water.
The ice layer was incredibly thick.
Therefore, we had to cut away a section large enough for the Nautilus to pass through.
The amount of ice that needed to be removed was enormous.
Nearly six thousand cubic yards had to be cleared away.
The work began immediately.
Everyone worked with extraordinary energy.
Instead of digging directly around the Nautilus, which would have been much more difficult, Captain Nemo ordered his men to create a huge trench eight yards away from the ship’s left side.
Then the workers attacked the ice from several directions at once.
The picks struck the frozen mass again and again.
Large blocks broke away from the iceberg.
Because ice is lighter than water, the broken pieces floated upward into the tunnel above us.
The ceiling became thicker as the lower part became thinner.
But that did not matter.
The important thing was that the passage beneath us continued to open.
After two hours of exhausting labor, Ned Land returned.
He was completely worn out.
New workers immediately replaced him.
Conseil and I joined the effort.
The second officer of the Nautilus supervised our work.
The water was painfully cold.
But after a while, swinging the pickaxe warmed my entire body.
Although we were working under a pressure of thirty atmospheres, our movements remained possible.
After two hours, I returned inside to eat and rest.
I immediately noticed the difference between the clean air supplied by my Rouquayrol apparatus and the thick atmosphere inside the Nautilus.
The air inside the submarine had not been renewed for forty-eight hours.
Its life-giving power was rapidly disappearing.
After twelve hours of work, we had removed only one yard of ice.
The section we needed to clear was about six hundred cubic yards.
At this speed, we would need five nights and four days to finish.
Five nights and four days.
But we only had enough air for two days.
Ned Land looked at me seriously.
“And even if we escape from this frozen prison,” he said, “we will still be trapped beneath the iceberg, unable to reach the surface air.”
He was right.
Who could know how long it would take before the Nautilus reached freedom?
We might suffocate before we ever reached the open sea.
Was this submarine destined to become our frozen tomb?
The situation was terrifying.
But every man had already accepted the danger.
Everyone was determined to do his duty until the very end.
During the night, another huge block of ice was removed.
The hollow beneath the Nautilus became deeper.
However, the next morning, when I put on my diving suit and walked through the freezing water, I noticed something alarming.
The side walls of the passage were slowly moving inward.
The water far from our working area was not warmed by our movements.
It was beginning to freeze again.
A new danger had appeared.
The ice was closing around us.
If it continued, it could crush the Nautilus like a glass bottle.
I said nothing to my companions.
What good would it do?
Their strength and courage were our only hope.
But when I returned inside, I told Captain Nemo about the danger.
“I know,” he replied calmly.
His voice had the strange power of making even terrible situations seem manageable.
“It is another danger, but I see only one solution.”
“We must work faster than the freezing process.”
“We must defeat the ice before it defeats us.”
That day, I worked harder than ever.
Working outside had another advantage.
It allowed me to leave the poisoned atmosphere of the Nautilus and breathe pure air from my diving equipment.
By evening, the trench had been deepened by another yard.
When I returned inside, I almost collapsed.
The air was filled with carbon dioxide.
I could barely breathe.
If only we had some chemical method to remove this deadly gas.
We had plenty of oxygen around us.
The ocean water contained a great amount of it.
With our powerful electric equipment, we could separate oxygen from the water.
But that was useless.
The problem was not the lack of oxygen.
The problem was the carbon dioxide produced by our own breathing.
To remove it, we needed caustic potash.
But the Nautilus had none.
Nothing could replace it.
That evening, Captain Nemo had no choice.
He needed to release some fresh air from the reserve tanks into the submarine.
Without it, we could not survive.
The next day, March 26th, I returned to the ice trench.
We had reached the fifth yard.
But the walls were becoming thicker.
The lower ice layer was also growing.
It was obvious.
The ice would close completely before we could escape.
For a moment, despair overwhelmed me.
My pickaxe almost slipped from my hands.
Why were we still digging?
Would we not simply die trapped inside frozen water?
It was a death more terrible than anything even the cruelest people could have invented.
At that moment, Captain Nemo passed near me.
I touched his arm and pointed toward the approaching walls.
The ice on the left side was now only four yards away from the hull of the Nautilus.
The Captain immediately understood.
He signaled for me to follow him.
We returned inside.
I removed my diving suit and followed him into the drawing room.
“M. Aronnax,” said Nemo, “we must try something desperate.”
“Otherwise, we will soon be sealed inside this frozen water like insects trapped in cement.”
“But what can we do?”
“Do you understand,” he asked, “that this freezing water may actually help us?”
“I do not understand.”
“When water freezes, it expands.”
“It can break even the hardest rocks.”
“This ice may destroy the prison holding us.”
“Yes, Captain, but the pressure would also crush the Nautilus.”
“I know,” he replied.
“That is why we cannot depend on nature.”
“We must stop the freezing ourselves.”
“The ice is closing from every direction.”
“How much air remains in our tanks?” I asked.
Captain Nemo looked directly at me.
“After tomorrow, there will be none.”
A cold wave passed through me.
I should not have been surprised.
For five days, we had survived only on our stored air.
The remaining supply had to be saved for the workers outside.
Captain Nemo remained silent.
Then suddenly, an idea appeared on his face.
“Boiling water,” he whispered.
“Boiling water?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“We are trapped inside a relatively small space.”
“If we constantly inject boiling water around us, perhaps we can raise the temperature enough to stop the ice from forming.”
“Let us try it,” I said firmly.
“Let us try it, Professor.”
The thermometer outside showed seven degrees below zero.
Captain Nemo took me to the engine room.
There stood the enormous distillation machines that produced fresh water from seawater.
The crew filled them with water.
The electric power from the batteries heated the machines.
Within minutes, the water reached boiling point.
The boiling water was sent into the pumps while fresh water continuously replaced it.
The heat was tremendous.
Cold seawater entered the machines and came out boiling.
The injection process began.
Three hours later, the outside temperature had risen from seven degrees below zero to six degrees below zero.
One degree had been gained.
Two hours later, it had risen to only four degrees below zero.
“We will succeed,” I said.
Captain Nemo nodded.
“I believe we will not be crushed.”
“And we no longer need to fear suffocation.”
During the night, the temperature of the water reached one degree below zero.
The heating system could not raise it further.
But seawater normally freezes at two degrees below zero.
At least, we had escaped the immediate danger of solidification.
The next day, March 27th, six yards of ice had been removed.
Only twelve feet remained.
We still needed forty-eight hours of work.
But the air inside the Nautilus could not be renewed.
Every hour made our condition worse.
By three o’clock in the afternoon, the suffering became unbearable.
I could barely breathe.
My lungs struggled desperately.
My mind became numb.
I felt weak and almost unconscious.
Poor Conseil suffered the same way.
Yet he never left me.
He held my hand.
“Master,” I heard him whisper, “if only I could stop breathing and leave more air for you.”
Tears filled my eyes.
Outside, men fought the ice with all their strength.
Their arms became painful.
Their hands were covered with wounds.
But none of that mattered.
Outside, they could breathe.
They could live.
Inside, we were slowly suffocating.
No man worked beyond his assigned time.
When his task ended, he handed his breathing equipment to another exhausted worker.
Captain Nemo set the example.
He was always the first to work and the first to give up his air supply.
He returned inside the poisoned atmosphere without complaint.
That day, the work continued with unbelievable energy.
Only two yards of ice remained.
Only two yards separated us from the open sea.
But the air tanks were almost empty.
Every remaining breath had to be saved for the workers.
There was none left for the Nautilus.
When I returned inside, I was nearly unconscious.
That night was terrible.
The next morning, my breathing became even more difficult.
My head spun.
I walked like a drunken man.
Others suffered the same symptoms.
Some sailors began making choking sounds.
On this sixth day of imprisonment, Captain Nemo decided that the pickaxes were too slow.
He would use the Nautilus itself to break the remaining ice.
His courage never failed.
His willpower overcame his physical suffering.
By his order, the submarine was made lighter.
The water tanks were emptied, allowing the Nautilus to rise from the ice floor.
Then the crew pulled it above the enormous trench they had created.
Afterward, Captain Nemo filled the tanks again.
The submarine descended into position.
Everyone returned inside.
The connecting doors were sealed.
The Nautilus rested on a layer of ice less than a yard thick.
Thousands of holes had already weakened it.
Captain Nemo opened the water tanks.
A hundred cubic yards of water rushed inside.
The weight of the submarine increased to eighteen hundred tons.
We waited.
We listened.
Our lives depended on this final attempt.
Despite the noise in my head, I heard a deep vibration beneath the hull.
The ice cracked.
The sound was like paper tearing.
The Nautilus began to sink.
“We are moving!” whispered Conseil.
I could not answer.
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
Suddenly, the overloaded submarine dropped downward like a stone.
Then the pumps began working at full power.
The water was forced out of the tanks.
Slowly, the fall stopped.
The pressure gauge showed that we were rising.
The propeller turned violently.
The entire iron body shook.
The Nautilus rushed northward.
But if we remained beneath the iceberg for another day, I would not survive.
I lay helpless on a sofa in the library.
I was suffocating.
My face burned.
My lips turned blue.
My senses disappeared.
I no longer knew how much time passed.
I felt death approaching.
Then suddenly, I returned to consciousness.
Air entered my lungs.
Had we reached the surface?
Were we free?
No.
Ned Land and Conseil had saved me.
A small amount of air remained in one of their breathing devices.
Instead of using it themselves, they had saved it for me.
While they were suffocating, they gave me their last supply of life.
I tried to push it away.
They held my hands.
For a few moments, I breathed again.
I looked at the clock.
It was eleven in the morning.
It must have been March 28th.
The Nautilus was moving at incredible speed.
Forty miles an hour.
It was tearing through the water.
Where was Captain Nemo?
Had he survived?
Were his men still alive?
The pressure gauge showed we were only twenty feet below the surface.
Only a thin layer of ice separated us from fresh air.
Could we break through?
The Nautilus was going to try.
I felt the submarine tilt.
The stern lowered.
The bow rose.
The water inside the tanks had changed its balance.
Driven by its powerful propeller, the Nautilus attacked the ice from below like a giant battering ram.
It struck backward.
Then forward.
Again and again.
The ice weakened.
Finally, with one enormous push, the submarine broke through.
The ice collapsed beneath its weight.
The upper hatch opened.
Fresh air rushed into every part of the Nautilus.
We were free.