The next day, March 26, I returned to my miner’s trade, working to remove the fifth meter. The Ice Bank’s side walls and underbelly had visibly thickened. Obviously they would come together before the Nautilus could break free. For an instant I was gripped by despair. My pick nearly slipped from my hands. What was the point of this digging if I was to die smothered and crushed by this water turning to stone, a torture undreamed of by even the wildest savages! I felt like I was lying in the jaws of a fearsome monster, jaws irresistibly closing. Supervising our work, working himself, Captain Nemo passed near me just then. I touched him with my hand and pointed to the walls of our prison. The starboard wall had moved forward to a point less than four meters from the Nautilus’s hull. The captain understood and gave me a signal to follow him. We returned on board. My diving suit removed, I went with him to the lounge. “Professor Aronnax,” he told me, “this calls for heroic measures, or we’ll be sealed up in this solidified water as if it were cement.” “Yes!” I said. “But what can we do?” “Oh,” he exclaimed, “if only my Nautilus were strong enough to stand that much pressure without being crushed!” “Well?” I asked, not catching the captain’s meaning. “Don’t you understand,” he went on, “that the congealing of this water could come to our rescue? Don’t you see that by solidifying, it could burst these tracts of ice imprisoning us, just as its freezing can burst the hardest stones? Aren’t you aware that this force could be the instrument of our salvation rather than our destruction?” “Yes, captain, maybe so. But whatever resistance to crushing the Nautilus may have, it still couldn’t stand such dreadful pressures, and it would be squashed as flat as a piece of sheet iron.” “I know it, sir. So we can’t rely on nature to rescue us, only our own efforts. We must counteract this solidification. We must hold it in check. Not only are the side walls closing in, but there aren’t ten feet of water ahead or astern of the Nautilus. All around us, this freeze is gaining fast.” “How long,” I asked, “will the oxygen in the air tanks enable us to breathe on board?” The captain looked me straight in the eye. “After tomorrow,” he said, “the air tanks will be empty!” I broke out in a cold sweat. But why should I have been startled by this reply? On March 22 the Nautilus had dived under the open waters at the pole. It was now the 26th. We had lived off the ship’s stores for five days! And all remaining breathable air had to be saved for the workmen. Even today as I write these lines, my sensations are so intense that an involuntary terror sweeps over me, and my lungs still seem short of air! Meanwhile, motionless and silent, Captain Nemo stood lost in thought. An idea visibly crossed his mind. But he seemed to brush it aside. He told himself no. At last these words escaped his lips: “Boiling water!” he muttered. “Boiling water?” I exclaimed.