The congelation gains on us on all sides."
"How long will the air in the reservoirs last for us to breathe on board?"
The Captain looked in my face. "After to-morrow they will be empty!"
A cold sweat came over me. However, ought I to have been astonished
at the answer? On March 22, the Nautilus was in the open polar seas.
We were at 26@. For five days we had lived on the reserve on board.
And what was left of the respirable air must be kept for the workers.
Even now, as I write, my recollection is still so vivid that an
involuntary terror seizes me and my lungs seem to be without air.
Meanwhile, Captain Nemo reflected silently, and evidently an idea
had struck him; but he seemed to reject it. At last, these words
escaped his lips:
"Boiling water!" he muttered.
"Boiling water?" I cried.
"Yes, sir. We are enclosed in a space that is relatively confined.
Would not jets of boiling water, constantly injected by the pumps,
raise the temperature in this part and stay the congelation?"
"Let us try it," I said resolutely.
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