Part 2 · Chapter 16Want of Air

Want of Air. So, basically, the Nautilus was totally surrounded by an unbreakable wall of ice. We were trapped by the iceberg. I kept my eyes on the Captain. He looked totally calm, like always.

"Guys," he said coolly, "there are two ways this could end for us." (This seriously smart dude gave off major professor vibes, lecturing to his students.) " One is to get crushed; the other is to suffocate."

"Don’t even worry about starving - we’re stocked up with food for way longer than we’ll be stuck here. Let’s figure out our odds."

"About the suffocation thing, Captain," I said, "I don’t think that’s a problem, since our air tanks are full."

"Exactly. But those tanks will only last for two days’ worth of air. We’ve been underwater for thirty-six hours already, and the air inside the Nautilus needs to be refreshed. In forty-eight hours, we’ll be completely out of air."

"So, Captain, can we get out before forty-eight hours?"

"We’re going to try, by breaking through the ice wall around us." "Which side?"

"Sound will tell us. I’m going to run the Nautilus onto the lower bank, and my crew will attack the iceberg on the side that’s thinnest." Captain Nemo headed out.

Soon I heard a hissing sound, which meant water was leaking into the air tanks. The Nautilus sank slowly and settled on the ice, about a thousand feet down - the depth of the lower bank.

"Friends," I said, "things are pretty serious right now, but I’m counting on your bravery and strength."

"Sir," replied the Canadian, "I’m ready to do anything to keep everyone safe."

"Awesome! Ned," and I shook the Canadian’s hand.

"I’ll also add," he continued, "that I’m just as good with a pickaxe as I am with a harpoon, so if I can help the Captain, he can count on me."

"He won’t turn down your help. Come on, Ned!"

I led him to the room where the crew of the Nautilus were getting into their insulated suits. I told Captain Nemo about Ned’s idea, and he was totally on board. The Canadian got into his diving gear and was ready as soon as everyone else.

When Ned was dressed, I went back to the living room, where the windows were open, and, standing near Conseil, I checked out the support structures holding up the Nautilus.

A few moments later, we saw a dozen crew members head onto the ice bank, and among them was Ned Land, easy to spot because of his height. Captain Nemo was with them. Before they started digging, he took some depth readings to make sure they were working in the right direction.

Long lines were lowered down the side walls, but after about fifty yards, they hit a thick wall. It was pointless to attack it from the ceiling-like surface, since the iceberg itself was over four hundred yards tall. Captain Nemo then checked the lower surface.

There were ten yards of wall separating us from the water - the ice was that thick. So, they needed to cut out a piece of ice the size of the Nautilus’ waterline. That was about six thousand cubic yards to remove, to dig a hole so we could get down to the ice field.

The work started right away and everyone was working super hard. Instead of digging all the way around the Nautilus, which would have been way more difficult, Captain Nemo had a huge trench dug about twenty yards from the back port side.

Then the guys started using their drills at the same time in several spots around the circumference. Soon, the pickaxes were really going at it, and big chunks were broken off.

Because these blocks were lighter than water, they floated, so to speak, to the top of the tunnel, making it thicker at the top as it got thinner at the bottom. But that didnn't really matter, as long as the bottom got thinner. After two hours of serious work, Ned Land came in totally wiped.

He and his crew were replaced by new workers, and Conseil and I joined them. The second lieutenant of the Nautilus was supervising us. The water felt really cold, but I warmed up pretty quickly using the pickaxe. My movements were smooth, even though I was working under a lot of pressure.

When I went back in after two hours to grab some food and rest, I noticed a big difference between the pure fluid the Rouquayrol engine was giving me and the air inside the Nautilus, which was already full of carbon dioxide.

The air hadn't been refreshed for forty-eight hours, and it wasn't as fresh as it should be. But after twelve hours, we’d only managed to lift one block of ice a yard thick, on an area that was about six hundred cubic yards!

If it took twelve hours to do that much, it would take five nights and four days to finish the 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 crazy prison, we’ll still be trapped under the iceberg, cut off from any way to breathe fresh air." He was right!

Who could guess how long it would take to get out? We could suffocate before the Nautilus could reach the surface? Was it destined to die in this ice tomb, with everyone inside? The situation was really bad. But everyone had faced the danger and was determined to do their duty until the very end.

I figured as much - during the night, another block about a yard square crumbled away, and the huge hollow sank even further.

But the next morning, wearing my cork jacket, I trudged through the slush - it was seriously freezing, like six or seven degrees below zero - and noticed the side walls were slowly closing in. The water furthest from the tunnel, the stuff not warmed by our work, was starting to freeze.

Facing this new, serious danger, what were our chances of escaping, and how could we stop this liquid from turning to solid ice and crushing the Nautilus like glass?

I didn't mention it to the others. What was the point of bumming everyone out when they were already working so hard to escape? But when I got back on board, I told Captain Nemo about the situation.

"I know," he said, calm as ever - even though it was totally terrifying.

"It’s just another problem, but I don’t see a way out. Our only hope is to move faster than the freezing. We need to stay ahead of it, that’s all."

That day, I really went at it with my pickaxe for hours. The work kept me going. Plus, working meant I could leave the Nautilus and breathe the clean air pulled from the reservoirs by our equipment, instead of the stale, yucky air inside. Towards evening, we’d dug the tunnel another yard deeper.

When I went back on board, I could barely breathe from all the carbon dioxide filling the air - man, if we only had a way to get rid of this poisonous gas. We had plenty of oxygen, and all this water contained a ton of it, and our powerful batteries could dissolve it to restore the life-giving fluid.

I'd thought about it a lot, but what good was that when the carbon dioxide we were breathing out had spread everywhere? To absorb it, we’d need jars filled with caustic potash and shake them constantly. But we didn't have any, and nothing could replace it.

That night, Captain Nemo needed to open the valves on his reservoirs and let some fresh air into the Nautilus; otherwise, we’d all suffocate. The next day, March twenty-sixth, I went back to my miner’s work, starting the fifth yard. The side walls and the bottom of the iceberg were visibly thickening.

It was clear they’d meet before the Nautilus could break free. I totally panicked for a second; my pickaxe almost slipped from my hands. What was the point of digging if I was going to suffocate, crushed by the water turning to stone - a punishment even the wildest savages wouldn't invent!

Just then, Captain Nemo walked by. I touched his hand and showed him the walls of our prison. The wall on the left had closed to within four yards of the Nautilus’s hull. The Captain understood, and signaled for me to follow him. We went back on board.

I took off my cork jacket and followed him into the living room.

"M. Aronnax, we have to try something desperate, or we’re going to be sealed up in this frozen water like cement." "Yeah, but what can we do?"

"Ah, if my Nautilus were strong enough to withstand this pressure without being crushed!"

"Well?" I asked, not sure what he meant.

"Don’t you get it," he replied, "that this freezing of the water will help us? Don’t you see that as it solidifies, it will burst through this field of ice trapping us, just like when water freezes, it shatters the hardest stones? Don’t you realize it will be an agent of safety, not destruction?"

"Yeah, Captain, maybe. But, no matter how much resistance to crushing the Nautilus has, it couldn’t handle this pressure and would be flattened like an iron plate."

"I know it, sir. So we can’t count on nature helping us out; we gotta do this ourselves. We have to stop this freezing. Not only will the side walls be pushed together, but there’s barely ten feet of water in front or behind the Nautilus. The ice is closing in on all sides."

"How long will the air in the tanks last for us to breathe?" The Captain looked me right in the face.

"After tomorrow, they’ll be empty!"

A cold sweat broke out on my skin. But should I have been surprised by the news? It was March twenty-second, and the Nautilus was stuck in the icy polar seas. We were at twenty-six° below. We’d been living off the reserves on board for five days already.

And whatever breathable air was left had to be saved for the crew. Even now, as I write this, the memory is so real that I get a jolt of fear and feel like I’m suffocating.

Meanwhile, Captain Nemo was thinking quietly, and it seemed like he’s had an idea, but he was rejecting it. Finally, he muttered, "Boiling water!" "Boiling water?" I asked.

"Yeah, sir. We’re trapped in a pretty small space. If we constantly pumped jets of boiling water, wouldn’t that raise the temperature in here and stop the freezing?"

"Let’s try it," I said, determined.

"Let’s try it, Professor." The thermometer showed seven° below outside.

Captain Nemo took me to the kitchens, where the huge water-distilling machines were, which made drinkable water by evaporation. They filled those with water, and all the electric heat from the batteries was pumped through the coils filled with liquid. In just a few minutes, the water reached one hundred°.

It was directed towards the pumps, while fresh water replaced it. The heat from the coils was so intense that the cold seawater, after just passing through the machines, came boiling into the pump. They started pumping, and three hours later, the thermometer marked six° below outside.

We’d gained a degree. Two hours later, it only showed four°.

"We’re gonna make it," I told the Captain, watching the results closely.

I think, he replied, that we won’t get crushed. We don’t have to worry about suffocating anymore.

"During the night, the water temperature rose to one° below zero. The pumping couldn’t push it any higher. But since freezing seawater creates at least two°, I was at least reassured against the dangers of total freezing."

The next day, March twenty-seventh, they’d cleared six yards of ice, with only twelve feet left to clear. There was still about forty-eight hours of work to do. The air inside the Nautilus couldn’t be refreshed. And today was making things worse. An awful weight pressed down on me.

Around three o’clock in the afternoon, this feeling hit me hard. I was yawning so much my jaw felt like it was coming apart. My lungs were struggling to pull in this hot, thinning air. I felt totally drained, almost out of it.

"My brave Conseil, even though he was showing the same symptoms and suffering just as much, never left my side. He took my hand and encouraged me, and I heard him whisper, "Oh!

If only I could stop breathing, just so I could leave more air for my master! Tears welled up in my eyes hearing him say that. If our situation inside was so bad, how quickly and happily we’d put on our insulated jackets to work our turn! The sound of pickaxes rang out on the frozen ice."

Our arms were aching, and our hands were raw. But what did these hardships matter, what did the wounds mean? Fresh air was filling our lungs! We were breathing! we were breathing!

All this time, nobody stretched out their volunteer shifts past the set time. Once their task was done, each person handed over the gear that kept them alive to their exhausted buddies. Captain Nemo led the way, being the first to submit to this tough routine.

When his turn came, he gave up his gear and went back to the stale air on board, totally calm, steady, and not complaining.

That day, we got all the usual work done with extra energy. Just two yards separated us from the surface. Two yards only kept us from the open sea! But the air tanks were almost empty. The little air left needed to be saved for the workers - not a drop for the Nautilus.

When I went back on board, I was practically gasping for air. What a night! I can’t even begin to describe it. The next day, I had trouble breathing. Dizziness and a pounding headache made me feel totally out of it. My friends felt the same way. Some of the crew had a hacking cough.

That day, the sixth of our time trapped, Captain Nemo realized the pickaxes were working too slowly, so he decided to smash the ice wall that still kept us from the water. This guy never lost his cool or his energy. He pushed past his physical pain with sheer willpower.

By his orders, the vessel was lightened - basically, lifted off the ice wall by changing its density. When it floated, they towed it to the huge hole they'd made at water level. Then, filling his water tanks, he dove down and locked himself inside the opening.

Just then, the whole crew came on board, and the double door was sealed. The Nautilus rested on the ice bed, which wasn't even a yard thick, and which the sounding lines had poked holes through a million times.

Then, they opened the tank valves, and a hundred cubic yards of water poured in, adding one,eight hundred tons to the weight of the Nautilus. We waited, we listened, forgetting how awful we felt in the hope of rescue. Our safety depended on this last chance.

Even with the buzzing in my head, I soon heard a humming sound under the hull of the Nautilus. The ice cracked with a strange sound, like ripping paper, and the Nautilus sank.

"We’re free!" whispered Conseil in my ear.

I couldn't answer him. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. Suddenly, carried away by its crazy weight, the Nautilus plunged like a bullet into the water - basically, it fell as if it was in space.

Then, all the electric power went to the pumps, which quickly started draining the water from the tanks. After a few minutes, our descent stopped. Soon, the gauge showed we were rising. The propeller, spinning at top speed, made the iron hull shake to its very core and pulled us north.

But if this underwater journey under the iceberg is going to last another day before we reach the open sea, I’m gonna be the first to go.

I was totally sprawled out on a couch in the library, and I felt like I was drowning. My face was purple, my lips were blue, and I was completely out of it. I couldn't see or hear anything. Time just vanished from my head. My muscles wouldn’t move.

I have no idea how long passed, but I felt this awful pain coming on. I honestly thought I was going to die. Then, suddenly, I snapped back. Some air finally filled my lungs. Had we made it to the surface of the water? Were we finally free of that iceberg? Nope!

Ned and Conseil, my two awesome friends, were sacrificing themselves to save me. There was still a little bit of air left in one of the machines. Instead of using it themselves, they saved it for me, and while they were suffocating, they gave me life, little by little.

I tried to push the machine away, but they held my hands, and for a few moments, I could breathe easily. I looked at the clock; it was eleven in the morning. It should have been March twenty-eighth. The Nautilus was zooming along, like, forty miles an hour. It was literally tearing through the water.

Where was Captain Nemo? Had he given up? Were his crew gone too? Just then, the pressure gauge showed we were only twenty feet from the surface. Just a thin sheet of ice separated us from the air. Could we break through? Maybe. Either way, the Nautilus was going to try.

I felt like it was tilted, lowering the back and raising the front. The water had messed with its balance. Then, powered by its super-strong propeller, it attacked the ice from below, like a crazy battering ram.

It smashed it by backing up and then charging forward against the ice, which slowly gave way. Finally, it slammed against it and shot forward across the ice, which shattered under its weight. The panel burst open - you could say it was ripped off - and fresh air flooded the Nautilus.