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“Well, captain, we shall be free before that!”

“We will try at any rate, by piercing the walls around us.”

“Which side?” I asked.

“The sound must guide us. I will run the Nautilus on the lower bank, and my men in their divers’ dresses must attack the iceberg at the thinnest spot.”

“Can they open the windows of the saloon?”

“Easily, we are moving no longer.”

The captain went out. A hissing noise soon told me that the water was entering the reservoirs. The Nautilus sank slowly, and rested on the ice at a depth of 350 yards, at which distance the lower pack of ice was immersed.

“My friend,” said I, “the case is serious, but I count on your courage and energy.”

“Monsieur,” said the Canadian, “I am not going to weary you with complaints at such a time as this. I am ready to do anything for the common safety.”

“Thank you, Ned,” I replied, extending my hand to him.

“I may add that I am as handy with a pick as with a harpoon, so if I can be of any use to the captain, I am at his disposal.”

“He will not refuse your assistance, Ned. Come.”

I conducted the Canadian to the room where the crew were putting on their diving dresses. I mentioned Ned’s suggestion to the captain, who accepted it. The Canadian then put on the dress, and was ready as soon as the rest. Each one carried on his back the Ronquayrol apparatus, which furnished a reservoir of pure air. A considerable but necessary deduction had been made from the supply on board. The Ruhmkortf lamps were not necessary.

When Ned was dressed I returned to the saloon, the