seven o’clock
A few morning gleams infiltrated the liquid strata . Beneath the undulations of the billows , the windows were enlivened by the blushing of the rising sun . That dreadful day of June 2 had dawned . At seven o'clock the log told me that the Nautilus had reduced speed . I realized that it was letting the warship approach . Moreover , the explosions grew more intensely audible . Shells furrowed the water around us , drilling through it with an odd hissing sound .