water. As the waves undulated, the gleam of the rising sun illuminated the windows. This terrible 2nd of June dawned!
At 5 a.m. I perceived that the speed had moderated. I understood that the vessel was to be permitted to approach. Besides, the guns were heard more distinctly, and the shot hissed strangely through the morning air.
“My friends,” said I, “the time has come. A grasp of the hand, and may Heaven preserve us!”
Ned Land was resolute; Conseil calm; I was nervous, and could scarcely control myself. We passed into the library. As I pushed open the door leading to the central staircase, I heard the upper panel shut sharply. The Canadian hurried up the steps. I stopped him. A well- known hissing sound informed me that the water was coming into the reservoirs; and in fact in a few minutes the Nautilus had sunk some yards under water.
I understood it all. It was too late to act now. The Nautilus did not dare to attack the ironclad, except below the water-line, where there were no iron plates to offer any resistance.
We were again imprisoned, unwilling witnesses of the tragedy about to be performed. We had scarcely time to reflect even. Shut in my room, we gazed at each other. without speaking. A profound stupor had settled upon my spirits. All thought appeared to be arrested in my mind. I was in that state of tension which precedes some expected explosion. I waited, I listened, every sense concentrated in the ear.
The speed of the Nautilus increased; the rush was coming, the whole fabric trembled.
Suddenly I uttered a cry. There was a shock, but comparatively gentle. I felt the penetrating force of the steel
