eleven in the
morning
Some particles of air still remained at the bottom of one apparatus . Instead of using it , they had kept it for me , and , while they were being suffocated , they gave me life , drop by drop . I wanted to push back the thing ; they held my hands , and for some moments I breathed freely . I looked at the clock ; it was eleven in the morning . It ought to be the 28th of March . The Nautilus went at a frightful pace , forty miles an hour . It literally tore through the water .