four o’clock in the morning
As for any hope of being rescued by Commander Farragut , that had to be renounced completely . We were being swept westward , and I estimate that our comparatively moderate speed reached twelve miles per hour . The propeller churned the waves with mathematical regularity , sometimes emerging above the surface and throwing phosphorescent spray to great heights . Near four o'clock in the morning , the submersible picked up speed . We could barely cope with this dizzying rush , and the waves battered us at close range . Fortunately Ned 's hands came across a big mooring ring fastened to the topside of this sheet-iron back , and we all held on for dear life . Finally this long night was over .