Forty-seven minutes past ten
`` God preserve us ! '' said the religious Barbicane . Michel Ardan and Nicholl stretched themselves on the couches placed in the center of the disc . `` Forty-seven minutes past ten ! '' murmured the captain . `` Twenty seconds more ! '' Barbicane quickly put out the gas and lay down by his companions , and the profound silence was only broken by the ticking of the chronometer marking the seconds .