The captain looked at me steadily.
“After to-morrow,” he said, “the reservoirs will be empty!”
A cold sweat came over me. And yet I ought not to have been surprised at his reply. On the 22nd of March the Nautilus went under water at the Pole. We had now reached the 26th. We had lived for five days upon the reserve on board, and what air remained respirable must be kept for the working parties. Even now the impression is still so vivid that an involuntary fear seizes me, and my lungs seem to want air.
Meanwhile Captain Nemo was reflecting in silence, and motionless. An idea had apparently occurred to him, but he seemed to reject it. At length he said:
“Boiling water.”
“Boiling water!” I exclaimed.
“Yes, we are shut up in a space relatively small. Would not streams of boiling water, constantly injected by the pumps of the Nautilus, raise the temperature of the water and retard the congelation?”
“We must try it,” I said resolutely.
“Let us do so, professor.”
The thermometer showed 7° outside. Captain Nemo led me to the “galley,” where the vast apparatus for distilling drinking water by evaporation were at work. They were filled with water, and the whole power of the electric heat was directed through the serpentines immersed in the liquid. In a few moments it had reached 100°. It was sent to the pumps while fresh supplies came in proportion. The heat was so great that the cold water drawn from the sea after having only passed through the apparatus came boiling to the pumps.
The pumping commenced, and in three hours the ther-
