Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Nineteen.Hurrah! We are off!As soon as I had screened myself behind the butt, I squatted down; and, in five minutes after, was so fast asleep; that it would have taken all the bells of Canterbury to have waked me. I had got but little sleep on the preceding night, and not a great deal the night before that; for John and I had been early up for the market. The fatigue, moreover, experienced in my cross-country journey, and the excitement of twenty-four hours’ suspense—now somewhat allayed—had quite done me up, and I slept as sound as a top, only that my nap lasted as long as that of a thousand tops.There had been noises enough to have awaked me much sooner, as I afterwards ascertained. There had been the rattling of pulleys and banging of boxes close to my ears, but I heard nothing of all this.When I awoke, I knew by my sensations that I had been a long while asleep. It must be far into the night, thought I. I supposed it was night-time, by the complete darkness that enveloped me; for on first squeezing myself behind the butt, I noticed that light came in by the aperture through which I had passed. Now there was none. It was night, therefore, and dark as pitch—that, of course, behind a huge hogshead down in the hold of a ship.“What time of night? I suppose they have all gone to bed, and are now snug in their hammocks? It must be near morning? Can I hear any one stirring?”I listened. I had no need to listen intently. I soon heard noises. They were evidently caused by heavy objects striking and bumping, just as if the sailors were still busy lading the vessel. I could hear their voices, too, though not very distinctly. Now and then certain ejaculations reached me, and I could make out the words “Heave!”“Avast heavin’!” and once the “Yo-heave-ho!” chanted by a chorus of the crew.“Why, they are actually at work loading the vesselin the night-time!”This, however, did not greatly surprise me. Perhaps they wished to take advantage of a tide or a fair wind, and were hurrying to complete the stowage of the ship.I continued to listen, expecting to hear a cessation of the noises; but hour after hour passed, and still the clinking and clanking kept on.“How very industrious!” thought I. “They must be pressed for time, and determined to start soon. True, the placard ‘For Peru—to-morrow!’ did not keep faith to-day, but no doubt it will do so to-morrow, at a very early hour. So much the better for me; I shall the sooner get out of my uncomfortable situation. It’s rather a hard bed I’ve had, and I am growing hungry again.”With this last reflection, I was very willing to make a fresh onset upon the cheese and crackers, and I accordingly did so. I had found a fresh appetite during my sleep, and I ate heartily, though it was themiddle of the night!The noise of the lading still continued. “Oh! they are going to keep at it all night. Hard work it is, poor fellows; but no doubt they will receive double wages for it.”All at once the sounds ceased, and there was profound silence in the ship—at least I could hear no one stirring about.“At last they have knocked off,” thought I; “they are now gone to bed; but surely it must be near daybreak, though day has not yet broken, else I should see some light through the aperture. Well! I shall try to go to sleep again myself.”I laid me down as before, and endeavoured to compose myself to sleep. In about an hour’s time I had well-nigh succeeded in doing so, when the thumping of the boxes re-commenced, and roused me up afresh.“What? they are at it again! Surely they cannot have been to sleep?—an hour—it was not worth their while to lie down for an hour.”I listened to assure myself that they had really set about work again. There could be no doubt of it. I could hear the clinking and clanking, and the creaking of the pulley-blocks just as before, only not quite so loud.“Well,” thought I, “it is a strange crew, working thus all night long. Ha! on second thoughts, perhaps it is a fresh set who are at it—another watch that has relieved the former one?”This was probable enough, and the conjecture satisfied me. But I could no more compose myself to sleep, and lay listening.Still they worked on, and I could hear the noises through the longest night I ever remember. Several hours they had kept at it, and then there was a pause of about an hour, and then I heard the work progressing as before, and as yet there were no signs of morning—not a ray of light came near me!I began to fancy I was dreaming, and that those spells of work that seemed to last for hours were only of minutes’ duration. And yet, if they were only minutes, I must have been gifted with a strange appetite, for no less than three times had I fallen ferociously upon my provisions, until my stock was well-nigh exhausted.At length the noises ceased altogether, and for several hours I did not hear them. During this interval there was almost complete silence above and around me, in the midst of which I again fell asleep.When I awoke, my ears were once more greeted with sounds, but these were quite of another character from those I had before been listening to. They were to me sounds of joy, for I at once recognised the well-known “crik-crik-crik” of a windlass, and the rattling of a great chain. Down where I was, in the hold, I did not hear these noises very distinctly, but enough so to know what was going on above.They were weighing the anchor; the ship was about to sail!I could scarce restrain myself from giving a cheer; but I managed to keep silence, fearing that my voice might be heard. It was not yet time. If heard, I should be dragged forth, and sent packing without ceremony. I therefore lay as still as a mouse, and listened to the great chain harshly rasping through the iron ring of the hawse-hole. Harsh as it may have sounded in other ears, it was music to mine at that moment.The clicking and rasping both ceased after a while, and then another sound reached me. This resembled the rushing of a mighty wind, but I knew it was not that. I knew it was the “sough” of the sea against the sides of the vessel. It produced a delightful impression upon my mind, for it told me thatthe big ship was in motion!“Hurrah! we are off!”

As soon as I had screened myself behind the butt, I squatted down; and, in five minutes after, was so fast asleep; that it would have taken all the bells of Canterbury to have waked me. I had got but little sleep on the preceding night, and not a great deal the night before that; for John and I had been early up for the market. The fatigue, moreover, experienced in my cross-country journey, and the excitement of twenty-four hours’ suspense—now somewhat allayed—had quite done me up, and I slept as sound as a top, only that my nap lasted as long as that of a thousand tops.

There had been noises enough to have awaked me much sooner, as I afterwards ascertained. There had been the rattling of pulleys and banging of boxes close to my ears, but I heard nothing of all this.

When I awoke, I knew by my sensations that I had been a long while asleep. It must be far into the night, thought I. I supposed it was night-time, by the complete darkness that enveloped me; for on first squeezing myself behind the butt, I noticed that light came in by the aperture through which I had passed. Now there was none. It was night, therefore, and dark as pitch—that, of course, behind a huge hogshead down in the hold of a ship.

“What time of night? I suppose they have all gone to bed, and are now snug in their hammocks? It must be near morning? Can I hear any one stirring?”

I listened. I had no need to listen intently. I soon heard noises. They were evidently caused by heavy objects striking and bumping, just as if the sailors were still busy lading the vessel. I could hear their voices, too, though not very distinctly. Now and then certain ejaculations reached me, and I could make out the words “Heave!”

“Avast heavin’!” and once the “Yo-heave-ho!” chanted by a chorus of the crew.

“Why, they are actually at work loading the vesselin the night-time!”

This, however, did not greatly surprise me. Perhaps they wished to take advantage of a tide or a fair wind, and were hurrying to complete the stowage of the ship.

I continued to listen, expecting to hear a cessation of the noises; but hour after hour passed, and still the clinking and clanking kept on.

“How very industrious!” thought I. “They must be pressed for time, and determined to start soon. True, the placard ‘For Peru—to-morrow!’ did not keep faith to-day, but no doubt it will do so to-morrow, at a very early hour. So much the better for me; I shall the sooner get out of my uncomfortable situation. It’s rather a hard bed I’ve had, and I am growing hungry again.”

With this last reflection, I was very willing to make a fresh onset upon the cheese and crackers, and I accordingly did so. I had found a fresh appetite during my sleep, and I ate heartily, though it was themiddle of the night!

The noise of the lading still continued. “Oh! they are going to keep at it all night. Hard work it is, poor fellows; but no doubt they will receive double wages for it.”

All at once the sounds ceased, and there was profound silence in the ship—at least I could hear no one stirring about.

“At last they have knocked off,” thought I; “they are now gone to bed; but surely it must be near daybreak, though day has not yet broken, else I should see some light through the aperture. Well! I shall try to go to sleep again myself.”

I laid me down as before, and endeavoured to compose myself to sleep. In about an hour’s time I had well-nigh succeeded in doing so, when the thumping of the boxes re-commenced, and roused me up afresh.

“What? they are at it again! Surely they cannot have been to sleep?—an hour—it was not worth their while to lie down for an hour.”

I listened to assure myself that they had really set about work again. There could be no doubt of it. I could hear the clinking and clanking, and the creaking of the pulley-blocks just as before, only not quite so loud.

“Well,” thought I, “it is a strange crew, working thus all night long. Ha! on second thoughts, perhaps it is a fresh set who are at it—another watch that has relieved the former one?”

This was probable enough, and the conjecture satisfied me. But I could no more compose myself to sleep, and lay listening.

Still they worked on, and I could hear the noises through the longest night I ever remember. Several hours they had kept at it, and then there was a pause of about an hour, and then I heard the work progressing as before, and as yet there were no signs of morning—not a ray of light came near me!

I began to fancy I was dreaming, and that those spells of work that seemed to last for hours were only of minutes’ duration. And yet, if they were only minutes, I must have been gifted with a strange appetite, for no less than three times had I fallen ferociously upon my provisions, until my stock was well-nigh exhausted.

At length the noises ceased altogether, and for several hours I did not hear them. During this interval there was almost complete silence above and around me, in the midst of which I again fell asleep.

When I awoke, my ears were once more greeted with sounds, but these were quite of another character from those I had before been listening to. They were to me sounds of joy, for I at once recognised the well-known “crik-crik-crik” of a windlass, and the rattling of a great chain. Down where I was, in the hold, I did not hear these noises very distinctly, but enough so to know what was going on above.They were weighing the anchor; the ship was about to sail!

I could scarce restrain myself from giving a cheer; but I managed to keep silence, fearing that my voice might be heard. It was not yet time. If heard, I should be dragged forth, and sent packing without ceremony. I therefore lay as still as a mouse, and listened to the great chain harshly rasping through the iron ring of the hawse-hole. Harsh as it may have sounded in other ears, it was music to mine at that moment.

The clicking and rasping both ceased after a while, and then another sound reached me. This resembled the rushing of a mighty wind, but I knew it was not that. I knew it was the “sough” of the sea against the sides of the vessel. It produced a delightful impression upon my mind, for it told me thatthe big ship was in motion!

“Hurrah! we are off!”

Chapter Twenty.Sea-Sick.The continued motion of the vessel, and the seething sound of the water, which I could hear very plainly, convinced me that we had parted from the quay, and were moving onward. I felt completely happy; there was no longer any fear of my being taken back to the farm. I was now fairly launched upon salt-water, and in twenty-four hours would be out on the wide Atlantic—far from land, and in no danger either of being pursued or sent back. I was in ecstasies of delight at the success of my plan.I thought it rather strange, their startingin the night—for it was still quite dark—but I presumed they had a pilot who knew all the channels of the bay, and who could take them into the open water just as well by night as by day.I was still somewhat puzzled to account for the extreme length of the night—that was altogether mysterious—and I began to think that I must have slept during the whole of a day, and was awake for two nights instead of one. Either that, or some of it must have been a dream. However, I was too much joyed at the circumstance of our having started, to speculate upon the strangeness of the hour. It mattered not to me whether we had set sail by night or by day, so long as we got safely out into the great ocean; and I laid myself down again to wait until the time should arrive, when I might safely show myself on deck.I was very impatient for the arrival of that crisis, and for two special reasons. One was, that I had grown very thirsty, and longed for a drink. The cheese and dry crackers had helped to make me so thirsty. I was not hungry, for part of the provision was still left, but I would gladly have exchanged it for a cup of water.The other reason why I wanted to get out of my hiding-place was, that my bones had become very sore from lying so long on the hard plank, and also from the cramped attitude I was compelled to assume, on account of the want of space. So full of pain did my joints feel, that I could hardly turn myself about; and I felt even worse when I continued to lie still. This also strengthened my belief that I must have slept during the whole of a day, for a single night upon the naked timbers could hardly have tired me so much.What with the thirst, therefore, and the soreness of my bones, I kept fidgeting and wriggling about for several hours, without intermission.For these two reasons I was very impatient to crawl forth from my narrow quarters, and set my foot upon deck; but for other reasons I deemed it prudent to endure both the thirst and the aching, and remain where I was for some time longer.I had sufficient knowledge of seaport customs to be aware that ships usually take a pilot a good way out to sea, and in all likelihood there was one on board. Should I show myself before this functionary had been dismissed, I would certainly be taken back in his pilot-boat; which, after all my success, and all my sufferings, would have been a humiliating result.Even had there been no pilot, we were yet in the track of fishing boats and small coasting vessels; and one of these, inward bound, could easily be brought alongside, and I might be chucked into it like a coil of rope, and carried back to the port.These considerations passed through my mind, and despite the torment of thirst and the painful aching of my joints, I remained within my lurking-place.For the first hour or two, the ship moved steadily through the water. It was calm weather, I supposed, and she was yet within the shelter of the bay. Then I perceived that she began to sway a little to and fro, and the rushing of the water along her sides became hoarser and more violent. Now and then I could hear the loud bumping of waves as they struck against the bows, and the timbers creaked under the concussions.These sounds were not displeasing. I reasoned that we had got out of the bay, and were passing into the open sea, where I knew the wind was always fresher, and the waves larger and bolder. “The pilot,” thought I, “will soon be dismissed, and then I may safely show myself on deck.”Of course I was not without misgivings as to my reception by the people of the ship—in truth, I felt serious apprehension upon that score. I remembered the harsh brutal mate, and the reckless indifferent crew. They would be indignant at the deception I had practised upon them—perhaps treat me with cruelty—flog me, or commit some other outrage. I was far from being easy in my mind about how they would use me, and I would fain have avoided the encounter.But that was clearly impossible. I could not keep concealed for the whole voyage, for long weeks, ay, months; I had no provisions, no water, and sooner or later I must go on deck, and take my chances.While speculating upon these chances, I began to feel very miserable, not with mental anguish alone, but with bodily pain. Worse than thirst it was, or the soreness of my bones. A new misery was fast growing upon me. My head swam with dizziness, the sweat started from my brow, and I felt sick both at the heart and in the stomach. I experienced a suffocating sensation in my breast and throat, as if my ribs were being compressed inwardly, and my lungs had not room enough to expand and let me breathe. My nostrils were filled with a nauseating smell—the smell of “bilge-water”—for being at the bottom of the hold, I was close to the latter, and could hear it “jabbling” about under the timbers, where no doubt it had lain for a long time. In all these symptoms I had no difficulty in telling what ailed me:sea-sickness—nothing more. Knowing this, I was not alarmed; but yet I experienced horrid sensations, as every one must who is under the infliction of this peculiar malady. Of course I felt ten times worse, situated as I was, choking with thirst, and no water near; for I fancied that a glass of pure water would to some extent have relieved me. It might remove the nausea, and give me freer breath. I would have given anything for one mouthful.In dread of that terrible pilot, I bore my sufferings as long as I could. But the rocking of the ship every moment became more violent, and the smell of the bilge-water more nauseous. In like proportion rose the revolt in my stomach, until the sickness and retching became quite unendurable.“Surely the pilot must have gone back? Whether or not, I can stand it no longer; I must get upon deck, or I shall die—oh!”I rose from my recumbent position, and began to grope my way along the side of the great butt. I reached the end of it, and felt for the aperture by which I had squeezed myself in. To my great surprise, I found that it was closed up!I could scarce credit my senses, and I felt again and again, passing my hands upwards and downwards. Beyond a doubt the aperture was shut up! My hands met resistance everywhere, coming in contact with a perpendicular wall, which, I could tell by the “feel,” was the side of an immense box. It blocked up the interval between the butt and the side of the ship so completely, that there was not space enough on either side to thrust the point of my finger through.I placed my hands to the box in hopes of being able to push it away, but I could not move it. I laid my shoulder to it, and heaved with all the strength of my body; I could not evenshake it! It was a large packing-case, no doubt filled with heavy goods. A strong man could scarce have stirred it from the spot, and my puny strength was altogether insufficient to move it.After an effort I desisted from trying, and crept back along the side of the butt, hoping I might get out by the other end; but on reaching this, my hopes were dissipated in a moment. There was not the space of an inch between the rim of the great cask and another similar barrel, which filled the aperture up to the ribs of the vessel! A mouse could hardly have squeezed itself through between.I next felt along the top of both casks, but with like result. There was just space in that direction to admit of passing my hand through, and no more. A huge beam, traversing along the top, was within a few inches of the rounded sides of the casks, and there was no aperture that would have permitted me, small as I was, to have squeezed myself through.I shall leave you to fancy my feelings, when the conviction broke upon me that I was actually shut in—imprisoned—built up among the merchandise!

The continued motion of the vessel, and the seething sound of the water, which I could hear very plainly, convinced me that we had parted from the quay, and were moving onward. I felt completely happy; there was no longer any fear of my being taken back to the farm. I was now fairly launched upon salt-water, and in twenty-four hours would be out on the wide Atlantic—far from land, and in no danger either of being pursued or sent back. I was in ecstasies of delight at the success of my plan.

I thought it rather strange, their startingin the night—for it was still quite dark—but I presumed they had a pilot who knew all the channels of the bay, and who could take them into the open water just as well by night as by day.

I was still somewhat puzzled to account for the extreme length of the night—that was altogether mysterious—and I began to think that I must have slept during the whole of a day, and was awake for two nights instead of one. Either that, or some of it must have been a dream. However, I was too much joyed at the circumstance of our having started, to speculate upon the strangeness of the hour. It mattered not to me whether we had set sail by night or by day, so long as we got safely out into the great ocean; and I laid myself down again to wait until the time should arrive, when I might safely show myself on deck.

I was very impatient for the arrival of that crisis, and for two special reasons. One was, that I had grown very thirsty, and longed for a drink. The cheese and dry crackers had helped to make me so thirsty. I was not hungry, for part of the provision was still left, but I would gladly have exchanged it for a cup of water.

The other reason why I wanted to get out of my hiding-place was, that my bones had become very sore from lying so long on the hard plank, and also from the cramped attitude I was compelled to assume, on account of the want of space. So full of pain did my joints feel, that I could hardly turn myself about; and I felt even worse when I continued to lie still. This also strengthened my belief that I must have slept during the whole of a day, for a single night upon the naked timbers could hardly have tired me so much.

What with the thirst, therefore, and the soreness of my bones, I kept fidgeting and wriggling about for several hours, without intermission.

For these two reasons I was very impatient to crawl forth from my narrow quarters, and set my foot upon deck; but for other reasons I deemed it prudent to endure both the thirst and the aching, and remain where I was for some time longer.

I had sufficient knowledge of seaport customs to be aware that ships usually take a pilot a good way out to sea, and in all likelihood there was one on board. Should I show myself before this functionary had been dismissed, I would certainly be taken back in his pilot-boat; which, after all my success, and all my sufferings, would have been a humiliating result.

Even had there been no pilot, we were yet in the track of fishing boats and small coasting vessels; and one of these, inward bound, could easily be brought alongside, and I might be chucked into it like a coil of rope, and carried back to the port.

These considerations passed through my mind, and despite the torment of thirst and the painful aching of my joints, I remained within my lurking-place.

For the first hour or two, the ship moved steadily through the water. It was calm weather, I supposed, and she was yet within the shelter of the bay. Then I perceived that she began to sway a little to and fro, and the rushing of the water along her sides became hoarser and more violent. Now and then I could hear the loud bumping of waves as they struck against the bows, and the timbers creaked under the concussions.

These sounds were not displeasing. I reasoned that we had got out of the bay, and were passing into the open sea, where I knew the wind was always fresher, and the waves larger and bolder. “The pilot,” thought I, “will soon be dismissed, and then I may safely show myself on deck.”

Of course I was not without misgivings as to my reception by the people of the ship—in truth, I felt serious apprehension upon that score. I remembered the harsh brutal mate, and the reckless indifferent crew. They would be indignant at the deception I had practised upon them—perhaps treat me with cruelty—flog me, or commit some other outrage. I was far from being easy in my mind about how they would use me, and I would fain have avoided the encounter.

But that was clearly impossible. I could not keep concealed for the whole voyage, for long weeks, ay, months; I had no provisions, no water, and sooner or later I must go on deck, and take my chances.

While speculating upon these chances, I began to feel very miserable, not with mental anguish alone, but with bodily pain. Worse than thirst it was, or the soreness of my bones. A new misery was fast growing upon me. My head swam with dizziness, the sweat started from my brow, and I felt sick both at the heart and in the stomach. I experienced a suffocating sensation in my breast and throat, as if my ribs were being compressed inwardly, and my lungs had not room enough to expand and let me breathe. My nostrils were filled with a nauseating smell—the smell of “bilge-water”—for being at the bottom of the hold, I was close to the latter, and could hear it “jabbling” about under the timbers, where no doubt it had lain for a long time. In all these symptoms I had no difficulty in telling what ailed me:sea-sickness—nothing more. Knowing this, I was not alarmed; but yet I experienced horrid sensations, as every one must who is under the infliction of this peculiar malady. Of course I felt ten times worse, situated as I was, choking with thirst, and no water near; for I fancied that a glass of pure water would to some extent have relieved me. It might remove the nausea, and give me freer breath. I would have given anything for one mouthful.

In dread of that terrible pilot, I bore my sufferings as long as I could. But the rocking of the ship every moment became more violent, and the smell of the bilge-water more nauseous. In like proportion rose the revolt in my stomach, until the sickness and retching became quite unendurable.

“Surely the pilot must have gone back? Whether or not, I can stand it no longer; I must get upon deck, or I shall die—oh!”

I rose from my recumbent position, and began to grope my way along the side of the great butt. I reached the end of it, and felt for the aperture by which I had squeezed myself in. To my great surprise, I found that it was closed up!

I could scarce credit my senses, and I felt again and again, passing my hands upwards and downwards. Beyond a doubt the aperture was shut up! My hands met resistance everywhere, coming in contact with a perpendicular wall, which, I could tell by the “feel,” was the side of an immense box. It blocked up the interval between the butt and the side of the ship so completely, that there was not space enough on either side to thrust the point of my finger through.

I placed my hands to the box in hopes of being able to push it away, but I could not move it. I laid my shoulder to it, and heaved with all the strength of my body; I could not evenshake it! It was a large packing-case, no doubt filled with heavy goods. A strong man could scarce have stirred it from the spot, and my puny strength was altogether insufficient to move it.

After an effort I desisted from trying, and crept back along the side of the butt, hoping I might get out by the other end; but on reaching this, my hopes were dissipated in a moment. There was not the space of an inch between the rim of the great cask and another similar barrel, which filled the aperture up to the ribs of the vessel! A mouse could hardly have squeezed itself through between.

I next felt along the top of both casks, but with like result. There was just space in that direction to admit of passing my hand through, and no more. A huge beam, traversing along the top, was within a few inches of the rounded sides of the casks, and there was no aperture that would have permitted me, small as I was, to have squeezed myself through.

I shall leave you to fancy my feelings, when the conviction broke upon me that I was actually shut in—imprisoned—built up among the merchandise!

Chapter Twenty One.Entombed Alive.I could now comprehend why the night had seemed so long. There had been light enough, but it reached me not. The great box had intercepted it. There had been day, and I knew it not. The men had been working by day, when I thought it was after midnight. Instead of a single night, at least two nights and a day had passed since I crouched into my hiding-place. No wonder I had hungered, and was thirsty—no wonder I felt an aching in my bones. The short intervals of silence I had observed were the hours when the crew were at their meals. The long silence that preceded the weighing of the anchor, had been the second night, when all were resting and asleep.I have stated, that I fell asleep almost instantly after I had crept into my lurking-place. It then still wanted several hours of sunset. My sleep had been sound and long, lasting, no doubt, till the following morning. But on the previous evening, the stowers had been at work—though I heard them not; and during my deep, unconscious slumber, the box, and no doubt many others, had been placed before the aperture.Every point was now clear to me, and clearer than all was the horrifying fact, that I was “boxed up.”I did not at first comprehend the full horror of my situation. I knew that I was shut in, and that no strength I could exert would be enough to get me out; but for all that, I did not apprehend any great difficulty. The strong sailors, who had stowed the packages, could remove them again; and I had only to shout and bring them to the spot.Alas! alas! little did I think that the loudest shout I might raise, could not have been heard by human being. Little did I suspect, that the hatchway, through which I had descended to the hold, was now closed with its strong hatches and these again covered with a thick tarpaulin—to remain so, perhaps, to the end of the voyage! Even had the hatches not been down, there would have been little chance of my being heard. The thick wall of bales and boxes would have intercepted my voice, or it might have been drowned altogether by the hoarse and constant rushing of the waves, as they broke along the sides of the ship.I say, that, on first discovering that I was closed in, my apprehensions were but slight, I thought, only, that I should be delayed awhile from getting water, which I now longed for exceedingly. It would take some time, no doubt, for the men to remove the boxes and relieve me; and meanwhile I was in misery. These alone were the thoughts that troubled me.It was only when I had screamed and shouted at the highest pitch of my voice—after I had thundered upon the planks with the heels of my shoes—after I had repeated my cries again and again, and still heard no reply; it was only then, that I began to comprehend the true nature of my situation. Then, indeed, did I perceive its full and perfect horror. Then, did the conviction burst upon me, that I had no prospect of escape—no hope of being relieved; in short, that I wasentombed alive!I cried, I screamed, I shouted. Long and loudly I cried, but how long I cannot tell. I did not leave off till I was weak and hoarse.At intervals I listened, but no response reached me—no sound of human voice. The echoes of my own reverberated along the sides of the ship, throughout the dark hold; but no voice responded to its lamentable tones.I listened to discover whether I could not hear the voices of the sailors. I had heard them in their chorus, when they were weighing anchor, but then the ship was at rest, and the waves were not lashing her timbers. Moreover, as I afterwards learned, the hold hatches had then been up, and were only put down on our standing out to sea.For a long while I listened, but neither command nor chorus reached my ears. If I could not hear their loud baritone voices, how could they hear mine?“Oh! they cannot hear me! They will never hear me! They will never come to my rescue! Here I must die—I must die!”Such was my conviction, after I had shouted myself hoarse and feeble. The sea-sickness had yielded for a time to the more powerful throes of despair; but the physical malady returned again, and, acting in conjunction with my mental misery, produced such agony as I never before endured. I yielded to it; my energies gave way, and I fell over like one struck down by paralysis.For a long while, I lay in a state of helpless stupor. I wished myself dead, and indeed I thought I was going to die. I seriously believe, that at that moment I would have hastened the event if I could; but I was too weak to have killed myself, even had I been provided with a weapon. Ihada weapon, but I had forgotten all about it in the confusion of my thoughts.You will wonder at my making this confession—that I desired death; but you would have to be placed in a situation similar to that I was in, to be able to realise the horror of despair. Oh, it is a fearful thing! May you never experience it!I fancied I was going to die, but Idid not. Men do not die either from sea-sickness or despair, nor boys either. Life is not so easily laid down.I certainly was more than half dead, however; and I think for a good while insensible. I was in a stupor for a long time—for many hours.At length my consciousness began to return, and along with it a portion of my energies. Strange enough, too, I felt my appetite reviving; for, in this respect, the “sea-sickness” is somewhat peculiar. Patients, under it, often eat more heartily than at other times. With me, however, the appetite of thirst was now far stronger than that of hunger, and its misery was not allayed by any hope of its being appeased. As for the other, I could still relieve it; some morsels were in my pocket.I need not recount the many fearful reflections that passed through my mind. For hours after, I was the victim of many a terrible paroxysm of despair. For hours I lay, or rather tossed about, in a state of confused thought; but at last, to my relief, I fell asleep.I fell asleep, for I had now been a long time awake, and this, with the prostration of my strength from mental suffering, had at length deadened the nerve of pain; so that, despite all my misery, I fell asleep.

I could now comprehend why the night had seemed so long. There had been light enough, but it reached me not. The great box had intercepted it. There had been day, and I knew it not. The men had been working by day, when I thought it was after midnight. Instead of a single night, at least two nights and a day had passed since I crouched into my hiding-place. No wonder I had hungered, and was thirsty—no wonder I felt an aching in my bones. The short intervals of silence I had observed were the hours when the crew were at their meals. The long silence that preceded the weighing of the anchor, had been the second night, when all were resting and asleep.

I have stated, that I fell asleep almost instantly after I had crept into my lurking-place. It then still wanted several hours of sunset. My sleep had been sound and long, lasting, no doubt, till the following morning. But on the previous evening, the stowers had been at work—though I heard them not; and during my deep, unconscious slumber, the box, and no doubt many others, had been placed before the aperture.

Every point was now clear to me, and clearer than all was the horrifying fact, that I was “boxed up.”

I did not at first comprehend the full horror of my situation. I knew that I was shut in, and that no strength I could exert would be enough to get me out; but for all that, I did not apprehend any great difficulty. The strong sailors, who had stowed the packages, could remove them again; and I had only to shout and bring them to the spot.

Alas! alas! little did I think that the loudest shout I might raise, could not have been heard by human being. Little did I suspect, that the hatchway, through which I had descended to the hold, was now closed with its strong hatches and these again covered with a thick tarpaulin—to remain so, perhaps, to the end of the voyage! Even had the hatches not been down, there would have been little chance of my being heard. The thick wall of bales and boxes would have intercepted my voice, or it might have been drowned altogether by the hoarse and constant rushing of the waves, as they broke along the sides of the ship.

I say, that, on first discovering that I was closed in, my apprehensions were but slight, I thought, only, that I should be delayed awhile from getting water, which I now longed for exceedingly. It would take some time, no doubt, for the men to remove the boxes and relieve me; and meanwhile I was in misery. These alone were the thoughts that troubled me.

It was only when I had screamed and shouted at the highest pitch of my voice—after I had thundered upon the planks with the heels of my shoes—after I had repeated my cries again and again, and still heard no reply; it was only then, that I began to comprehend the true nature of my situation. Then, indeed, did I perceive its full and perfect horror. Then, did the conviction burst upon me, that I had no prospect of escape—no hope of being relieved; in short, that I wasentombed alive!

I cried, I screamed, I shouted. Long and loudly I cried, but how long I cannot tell. I did not leave off till I was weak and hoarse.

At intervals I listened, but no response reached me—no sound of human voice. The echoes of my own reverberated along the sides of the ship, throughout the dark hold; but no voice responded to its lamentable tones.

I listened to discover whether I could not hear the voices of the sailors. I had heard them in their chorus, when they were weighing anchor, but then the ship was at rest, and the waves were not lashing her timbers. Moreover, as I afterwards learned, the hold hatches had then been up, and were only put down on our standing out to sea.

For a long while I listened, but neither command nor chorus reached my ears. If I could not hear their loud baritone voices, how could they hear mine?

“Oh! they cannot hear me! They will never hear me! They will never come to my rescue! Here I must die—I must die!”

Such was my conviction, after I had shouted myself hoarse and feeble. The sea-sickness had yielded for a time to the more powerful throes of despair; but the physical malady returned again, and, acting in conjunction with my mental misery, produced such agony as I never before endured. I yielded to it; my energies gave way, and I fell over like one struck down by paralysis.

For a long while, I lay in a state of helpless stupor. I wished myself dead, and indeed I thought I was going to die. I seriously believe, that at that moment I would have hastened the event if I could; but I was too weak to have killed myself, even had I been provided with a weapon. Ihada weapon, but I had forgotten all about it in the confusion of my thoughts.

You will wonder at my making this confession—that I desired death; but you would have to be placed in a situation similar to that I was in, to be able to realise the horror of despair. Oh, it is a fearful thing! May you never experience it!

I fancied I was going to die, but Idid not. Men do not die either from sea-sickness or despair, nor boys either. Life is not so easily laid down.

I certainly was more than half dead, however; and I think for a good while insensible. I was in a stupor for a long time—for many hours.

At length my consciousness began to return, and along with it a portion of my energies. Strange enough, too, I felt my appetite reviving; for, in this respect, the “sea-sickness” is somewhat peculiar. Patients, under it, often eat more heartily than at other times. With me, however, the appetite of thirst was now far stronger than that of hunger, and its misery was not allayed by any hope of its being appeased. As for the other, I could still relieve it; some morsels were in my pocket.

I need not recount the many fearful reflections that passed through my mind. For hours after, I was the victim of many a terrible paroxysm of despair. For hours I lay, or rather tossed about, in a state of confused thought; but at last, to my relief, I fell asleep.

I fell asleep, for I had now been a long time awake, and this, with the prostration of my strength from mental suffering, had at length deadened the nerve of pain; so that, despite all my misery, I fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty Two.Thirst.I slept neither very long, nor very soundly. My sleep was full of dreams, all troubled and horrid; but not more horrid than the reality to which I once more awoke.After awaking, it was some time before I could think of where I was; but on stretching out my arms, I was reminded of my situation: on every side the wooden walls of my prison were within reach, and I could touch them with my fingers all around. I had little more than room sufficient to turn myself in. Small as was my body, another as big as myself would almost have filled the space in which I was shut up.On again comprehending my fearful situation, I once more gave utterance to loud cries, shouting and screaming at the very highest pitch of my voice. I had not yet lost all hope that the sailors might hear me; for, as already stated, I knew not what quantity of merchandise might be stowed above me, nor did I think of the hatches of the lower deck being fastened down.Perhaps it was as well I did not know the whole truth, else the complete despair which the knowledge must have produced might have driven me out of my senses. As it was, the intervals of despair already endured had ever alternated with glimpses of hope; and this had sustained me, until I became more able to look my terrible fate in the face.I continued to cry out, sometimes for minutes at a time, and then only now and again, at intervals; but as no response came, the intervals between my spells of shouting became longer and longer, till at length, resigning all hope of being heard, I allowed my hoarse voice to rest, and remained silent.For several hours after this, I lay in a sort of half stupor—that is, my mind was in this state, but unfortunately my body was not so. On the contrary, I was racked with severe bodily pain—the pain of extreme thirst—perhaps the most grievous and hardest to endure of all physical suffering. I never should have believed that one could be so tortured by so simple a thing as the want of a drink of water, and when I used to read of travellers in the desert, and shipwrecked mariners on the ocean, having endured such agonies from thirst, as even to die of it, I always fancied there was exaggeration in the narrative. Like all English boys, brought up in a climate where there is plenty of moisture, and in a country where springs or runlets exist within a few hundred yards of any given point, it is not likely I should ever have known thirst by experience. Perhaps a little of it at times, when at play off in the fields, or by the sea-shore, where there was no fresh water. Then I had felt what we ordinarily call thirst—a somewhat unpleasant sensation in the throat, which causes us to yearn for a glass of water. But this unpleasantness is very trifling, and is almost neutralised by the anticipation we have of the pleasure to be experienced while allaying it; for this, we know, we shall be able to accomplish in a very short time. Indeed, so trifling is the annoyance we feel from ordinary thirst, that it is rare when we are compelled to stoop, either to the ditch or the pond, for the purpose of assuaging it. We are dainty enough to wait, until we encounter a cool well or some limpid spring.This, however, is not thirst; it is but thirst in its first and mildest stage—rather pleasant from the knowledge you have of being able soon to remove the pain. Once take away this confidence—become assured that no wells nor springs are near—no ponds, ditches, lakes, nor rivers—that no fresh water is within hundreds of miles of you—no fluid of any kind that will allay the appetite, and then even this incipient feeling of thirst would at once assume a new character, and become sufficiently painful to endure.I may not have been so absolutely in need of drink at the time, for I had not been so long without it. I am sure I had often gone for days without thinking of water, but this was just because I knew I might have as much as I pleased at a moment’s notice. Now, that there was none to be had, and no prospect of obtaining any, I felt for the first time in my life that thirst was a real agony.I was not again hungry. The provisions which I had purchased with the price of my sloop were not yet exhausted. Some pieces of the cheese, and several of the biscuits, still remained, but I did not venture to touch them. They would only have increased my thirst. The last morsels I had eaten had produced this effect. My parched throat called only for water—water at that moment appeared to me the most desirable thing in the world.I was in a situation somewhat similar to that of Tantalus. Water I saw not, but I heard it. The hoarse rushing of the waves as they tore along the sides of the ship was plainly audible. I knew it was the water of the sea—salt, and of no service to me, even could I have reached it—but still it was the sound of water playing continually on my ears as if to mock and tantalise me.I need not recount the many painful reflections that passed through my mind during the period that followed. Suffice it to say, that for many long hours I endured the terrible pain of thirst, without any hope of being relieved from its torture. I felt certain it was going to kill me. I knew not how soon, but I was sure that sooner or later it would cause my death. I had read of men living for days under the agony of thirst, before life became extinct. I tried to remember how many days they had lived, but my memory was at fault. Six or seven, I fancied, was the longest period. The prospect was appalling. How could I endure for six or seven days what I was then suffering? How could I bear it for even one day longer? Oh! it was fearful to endure! I hoped that death would sooner come, and release me from such torture!But a far brighter hope was nigh; and almost upon the instant that I had given mental expression to that despairing wish, a sound fell upon my ears that at once changed the current of my thoughts, and caused me to forget the horror of my situation.Oh! that sweet sound! It was like the whisper of an angel of mercy!

I slept neither very long, nor very soundly. My sleep was full of dreams, all troubled and horrid; but not more horrid than the reality to which I once more awoke.

After awaking, it was some time before I could think of where I was; but on stretching out my arms, I was reminded of my situation: on every side the wooden walls of my prison were within reach, and I could touch them with my fingers all around. I had little more than room sufficient to turn myself in. Small as was my body, another as big as myself would almost have filled the space in which I was shut up.

On again comprehending my fearful situation, I once more gave utterance to loud cries, shouting and screaming at the very highest pitch of my voice. I had not yet lost all hope that the sailors might hear me; for, as already stated, I knew not what quantity of merchandise might be stowed above me, nor did I think of the hatches of the lower deck being fastened down.

Perhaps it was as well I did not know the whole truth, else the complete despair which the knowledge must have produced might have driven me out of my senses. As it was, the intervals of despair already endured had ever alternated with glimpses of hope; and this had sustained me, until I became more able to look my terrible fate in the face.

I continued to cry out, sometimes for minutes at a time, and then only now and again, at intervals; but as no response came, the intervals between my spells of shouting became longer and longer, till at length, resigning all hope of being heard, I allowed my hoarse voice to rest, and remained silent.

For several hours after this, I lay in a sort of half stupor—that is, my mind was in this state, but unfortunately my body was not so. On the contrary, I was racked with severe bodily pain—the pain of extreme thirst—perhaps the most grievous and hardest to endure of all physical suffering. I never should have believed that one could be so tortured by so simple a thing as the want of a drink of water, and when I used to read of travellers in the desert, and shipwrecked mariners on the ocean, having endured such agonies from thirst, as even to die of it, I always fancied there was exaggeration in the narrative. Like all English boys, brought up in a climate where there is plenty of moisture, and in a country where springs or runlets exist within a few hundred yards of any given point, it is not likely I should ever have known thirst by experience. Perhaps a little of it at times, when at play off in the fields, or by the sea-shore, where there was no fresh water. Then I had felt what we ordinarily call thirst—a somewhat unpleasant sensation in the throat, which causes us to yearn for a glass of water. But this unpleasantness is very trifling, and is almost neutralised by the anticipation we have of the pleasure to be experienced while allaying it; for this, we know, we shall be able to accomplish in a very short time. Indeed, so trifling is the annoyance we feel from ordinary thirst, that it is rare when we are compelled to stoop, either to the ditch or the pond, for the purpose of assuaging it. We are dainty enough to wait, until we encounter a cool well or some limpid spring.

This, however, is not thirst; it is but thirst in its first and mildest stage—rather pleasant from the knowledge you have of being able soon to remove the pain. Once take away this confidence—become assured that no wells nor springs are near—no ponds, ditches, lakes, nor rivers—that no fresh water is within hundreds of miles of you—no fluid of any kind that will allay the appetite, and then even this incipient feeling of thirst would at once assume a new character, and become sufficiently painful to endure.

I may not have been so absolutely in need of drink at the time, for I had not been so long without it. I am sure I had often gone for days without thinking of water, but this was just because I knew I might have as much as I pleased at a moment’s notice. Now, that there was none to be had, and no prospect of obtaining any, I felt for the first time in my life that thirst was a real agony.

I was not again hungry. The provisions which I had purchased with the price of my sloop were not yet exhausted. Some pieces of the cheese, and several of the biscuits, still remained, but I did not venture to touch them. They would only have increased my thirst. The last morsels I had eaten had produced this effect. My parched throat called only for water—water at that moment appeared to me the most desirable thing in the world.

I was in a situation somewhat similar to that of Tantalus. Water I saw not, but I heard it. The hoarse rushing of the waves as they tore along the sides of the ship was plainly audible. I knew it was the water of the sea—salt, and of no service to me, even could I have reached it—but still it was the sound of water playing continually on my ears as if to mock and tantalise me.

I need not recount the many painful reflections that passed through my mind during the period that followed. Suffice it to say, that for many long hours I endured the terrible pain of thirst, without any hope of being relieved from its torture. I felt certain it was going to kill me. I knew not how soon, but I was sure that sooner or later it would cause my death. I had read of men living for days under the agony of thirst, before life became extinct. I tried to remember how many days they had lived, but my memory was at fault. Six or seven, I fancied, was the longest period. The prospect was appalling. How could I endure for six or seven days what I was then suffering? How could I bear it for even one day longer? Oh! it was fearful to endure! I hoped that death would sooner come, and release me from such torture!

But a far brighter hope was nigh; and almost upon the instant that I had given mental expression to that despairing wish, a sound fell upon my ears that at once changed the current of my thoughts, and caused me to forget the horror of my situation.

Oh! that sweet sound! It was like the whisper of an angel of mercy!

Chapter Twenty Three.A sweet Sound.I was lying, or half-standing erect, with my shoulder against one of the great ribs of the ship that traversed my little chamber from top to bottom, dividing it into two nearly equal parts. I had got into this attitude merely as a change; for during the long days and nights since I entered my confined quarters, I had tried every attitude I could think of, in order to obtain freedom from the monotony of remaining too long in one position. I had tried sitting; also standing, though somewhat bent; more generally I had lain down—now on one side, now on the other—sometimes upon my back, and even sometimes on my face.The position I had now assumed to rest me for a moment was a standing one, though only half erect, as the height of my chamber was not equal to my own length. The point of my shoulder found a resting-place against the rib of the vessel, and my head, drooping forward, was nearly in contact with the side of the great butt, upon the swell of which my hand rested.Of course, my ear was close to the cask, almost touching its hard oaken staves; and it was through these that the sound reached me which I have described as having caused a sudden and pleasant reaction in my feelings.The sound itself was simple enough to understand. I easily understood it. It was the “cluk-cluk” of water moving about inside the butt, its motion being caused by the pitching of the ship, and a slight rolling of the cask itself, which had not been steadily “cleated” in its place.The first “cluk” was music to my ears; but I did not permit myself the free enjoyment of it until I had fully satisfied myself as to the nature of what I had heard.I had raised my head with a start, and I now placed my cheek against the oak staves, and stood with every nerve in my ear straining to catch the sounds. I waited a good while, for it was only at intervals that the ship gave her heaviest lurches, and only then did the fluid within the butt become disturbed. I waited patiently, and my patience was rewarded. There again!—“cluk-cluk-cluk!”“Cluk-cleek-clee-chuckle-cluk.” Beyond a doubt there was water in the cask!I could not restrain myself from uttering a shout of joy. I felt like one who had been for a long while in the act of being drowned, and who at length had reached land, and was saved.The sudden transition in my feelings almost caused me to faint; as it was, I staggered back against the timbers, and dropped down in a state of half-insensibility.Not long did I remain so. The acute torture soon prompted me to action; and I rose again, and leant forward against the cask.For what purpose? To find the bung, of course; draw it out, and relieve my thirst by a draught of water. What other object could I have in approaching it?Alas! alas! my new-sprung joy fast fleeted away, almost as suddenly as it had arisen! Not quite so suddenly; for it took me some time to run my fingers all over the swelling outlines of that great vessel; to pass them around its ends as far as the heavy boxes would permit; to go over the ground again and again, inch by inch, and stave by stave, with all the careful touch of one who is blind. Yes, it took me minutes to accomplish this, and to become satisfied that the bung was not upon my side of the cask—that it was either upon the top or the opposite side; but, whether one or the other, it was beyond my reach, and it was therefore as useless to me as if no such aperture existed.In my search for the bung I had not forgotten the vent or tap-hole. I knew that every cask is provided with both these apertures—that one should be in the side and the other in the head or end. But my search for the vent did not occupy two seconds of time. I at once perceived that both ends of the barrel, with the exception of a few inches near the edge, were completely blocked up—one by the box, and the opposite one by the other cask, already mentioned—the latter of which appeared to be a counterpart of that in front of me.It occurred to me that this other cask might also contain water, and I proceeded to make a “reconnaissance” of it; but I could only “grope” a small portion of its end, and there I felt only the smooth hard heading of oak, that resisted my touch like a wall of rock.It was only after all this had been accomplished, that I began once more to feel the misery of my situation—once more to resign myself to despair. I was now tantalised even worse than ever. I could hear at intervals the “jabbling” of the water within two inches of my lips, and was unable to taste it! Oh! what I would have given for one drop upon my tongue! one gill to moisten my throat, parched and burning like a coal of fire!If I had had an axe, with room to wield it, how I should have burst open that huge cistern, and drank fiercely of its contents! But I had no axe, no weapon of any kind; and without one the thick oaken staves were as impenetrable to me as if they had been solid iron. Even had I succeeded in reaching the bung or vent, how could I have got out the stopper or vent-peg? With my fingers it would plainly have been impracticable; though in the eagerness of my first hope I had never thought of this difficulty.I believe that I once more sat or staggered down, and after a little while rose up again, and made a fresh examination of the butt; but I am not sure about what I did, for this new disappointment had quite stupefied me, and I cannot exactly remember what followed for a good while after. I believe, however, that I performed these acts in a sort of mechanical way; and also that I tried once more to move the box, and pushed against it with all my strength; but, as before, to no purpose.After this I must have lain down, and resigned myself to despair, that again bound me in its hideous embrace. How long I cannot tell; but its spell was at length broken by a circumstance that once more put my senses on the alert.

I was lying, or half-standing erect, with my shoulder against one of the great ribs of the ship that traversed my little chamber from top to bottom, dividing it into two nearly equal parts. I had got into this attitude merely as a change; for during the long days and nights since I entered my confined quarters, I had tried every attitude I could think of, in order to obtain freedom from the monotony of remaining too long in one position. I had tried sitting; also standing, though somewhat bent; more generally I had lain down—now on one side, now on the other—sometimes upon my back, and even sometimes on my face.

The position I had now assumed to rest me for a moment was a standing one, though only half erect, as the height of my chamber was not equal to my own length. The point of my shoulder found a resting-place against the rib of the vessel, and my head, drooping forward, was nearly in contact with the side of the great butt, upon the swell of which my hand rested.

Of course, my ear was close to the cask, almost touching its hard oaken staves; and it was through these that the sound reached me which I have described as having caused a sudden and pleasant reaction in my feelings.

The sound itself was simple enough to understand. I easily understood it. It was the “cluk-cluk” of water moving about inside the butt, its motion being caused by the pitching of the ship, and a slight rolling of the cask itself, which had not been steadily “cleated” in its place.

The first “cluk” was music to my ears; but I did not permit myself the free enjoyment of it until I had fully satisfied myself as to the nature of what I had heard.

I had raised my head with a start, and I now placed my cheek against the oak staves, and stood with every nerve in my ear straining to catch the sounds. I waited a good while, for it was only at intervals that the ship gave her heaviest lurches, and only then did the fluid within the butt become disturbed. I waited patiently, and my patience was rewarded. There again!—“cluk-cluk-cluk!”

“Cluk-cleek-clee-chuckle-cluk.” Beyond a doubt there was water in the cask!

I could not restrain myself from uttering a shout of joy. I felt like one who had been for a long while in the act of being drowned, and who at length had reached land, and was saved.

The sudden transition in my feelings almost caused me to faint; as it was, I staggered back against the timbers, and dropped down in a state of half-insensibility.

Not long did I remain so. The acute torture soon prompted me to action; and I rose again, and leant forward against the cask.

For what purpose? To find the bung, of course; draw it out, and relieve my thirst by a draught of water. What other object could I have in approaching it?

Alas! alas! my new-sprung joy fast fleeted away, almost as suddenly as it had arisen! Not quite so suddenly; for it took me some time to run my fingers all over the swelling outlines of that great vessel; to pass them around its ends as far as the heavy boxes would permit; to go over the ground again and again, inch by inch, and stave by stave, with all the careful touch of one who is blind. Yes, it took me minutes to accomplish this, and to become satisfied that the bung was not upon my side of the cask—that it was either upon the top or the opposite side; but, whether one or the other, it was beyond my reach, and it was therefore as useless to me as if no such aperture existed.

In my search for the bung I had not forgotten the vent or tap-hole. I knew that every cask is provided with both these apertures—that one should be in the side and the other in the head or end. But my search for the vent did not occupy two seconds of time. I at once perceived that both ends of the barrel, with the exception of a few inches near the edge, were completely blocked up—one by the box, and the opposite one by the other cask, already mentioned—the latter of which appeared to be a counterpart of that in front of me.

It occurred to me that this other cask might also contain water, and I proceeded to make a “reconnaissance” of it; but I could only “grope” a small portion of its end, and there I felt only the smooth hard heading of oak, that resisted my touch like a wall of rock.

It was only after all this had been accomplished, that I began once more to feel the misery of my situation—once more to resign myself to despair. I was now tantalised even worse than ever. I could hear at intervals the “jabbling” of the water within two inches of my lips, and was unable to taste it! Oh! what I would have given for one drop upon my tongue! one gill to moisten my throat, parched and burning like a coal of fire!

If I had had an axe, with room to wield it, how I should have burst open that huge cistern, and drank fiercely of its contents! But I had no axe, no weapon of any kind; and without one the thick oaken staves were as impenetrable to me as if they had been solid iron. Even had I succeeded in reaching the bung or vent, how could I have got out the stopper or vent-peg? With my fingers it would plainly have been impracticable; though in the eagerness of my first hope I had never thought of this difficulty.

I believe that I once more sat or staggered down, and after a little while rose up again, and made a fresh examination of the butt; but I am not sure about what I did, for this new disappointment had quite stupefied me, and I cannot exactly remember what followed for a good while after. I believe, however, that I performed these acts in a sort of mechanical way; and also that I tried once more to move the box, and pushed against it with all my strength; but, as before, to no purpose.

After this I must have lain down, and resigned myself to despair, that again bound me in its hideous embrace. How long I cannot tell; but its spell was at length broken by a circumstance that once more put my senses on the alert.

Chapter Twenty Four.Tapping the Butt.I had stretched myself lengthwise in my cell, and was lying upon my right side, with my head resting upon my arm. While thus placed, I felt something pressing against my thigh, as though there was a protuberance on the plank, or some piece of hard material under me. It began to give me pain, and I reached down my hand to remove it, at the same time raising my body so that I might get at it. I was a little surprised on not finding anything, but the next moment I perceived that the hard substance that annoyed me was not upon the planks, but inside the pocket of my trousers!What had I got there? I remembered nothing, and might have supposed it was some fragments of biscuit; but these I had deposited in the pockets of my jacket, and they could not have got down to my trousers. I felt the article from the outside. It was something very hard, and of a longish shape; but I could not think what, for as yet I could remember nothing that I had carried, with the exception of the biscuits and cheese.I had to raise myself up in order to insert my hand into the pocket, and not until I had done so was I made acquainted with the nature of its contents. The hard oblong thing that had thus attracted my attention was the knife given me by the sailor, Waters; and which, having thrust mechanically into my pocket at the moment of receiving it, I had quite forgotten.The discovery caused me no particular emotion at the moment. Simply a thought of the kindness of the sailor as contrasted with the brutality of the mate—just the same thought that passed through my mind at the time the gift was presented. With this reflection I drew forth the knife, and flinging it down beside me, so that it might be out of the way, I lay down on my side as before.But I had scarcely stretched myself, when an idea crossed my mind, that prompted me to start up again, as suddenly as if I had lain down upon red-hot iron. Unlike the latter, however, it was not a feeling of pain that caused this quick movement, but one of pleasure—of joyful hope. It had just occurred to me that with the knife I might make a hole in the side of the cask, and thus reach the water!So practicable did the design appear, that I had not a doubt of being able to accomplish it; and the certainty I now felt of getting at the precious contents of the cask, produced a complete revulsion in my feelings—another sudden transition from despair to hope. I groped eagerly about, and soon recovered the knife. I had scarce looked at it, on receiving it from the hands of the friendly sailor. Now I examined it carefully—by the touch, of course—I felt it all over; and as well as I was able by such a test, calculated its strength and fitness for the work I had designed for it.It was what is termed a “jack-knife,” with a buckhorn handle, and but one blade—a sort in common use among sailors, who usually carry them on a string passed around the neck, and to which the knife is attached by a hole drilled in the haft. The blade was a square one, drawn to an angular point, and shaped somewhat like the blade of a razor. Like the latter, too, the back was thick and strong, as I could tell by the “feel.” I was gratified at perceiving this, for I knew that it would require a strong blade to hew a hole through the tough staves of oak.The instrument I held in my hands was the very thing for the purpose, almost as good as a chisel. Haft and blade were nearly of equal length, and when opened out, they measured about ten inches together.I have been thus particular in describing this knife; and from me it merits all that has been said, and far more, in praise of its good qualities; since, but for it, I should not now be alive to give an account of its wonderful performances.Well, having opened the knife, and drawn my fingers along the blade, and felt it over and over again, in order to get acquainted with its form and fitness; and then, having examined the back-spring, and tried its strength by various openings and shuttings: having done all this, I went to work upon the hard oak.You will wonder that I wanted to take all these precautions. You will fancy that, tortured as I was by thirst, I would scarce have had so much patience, but would have set about making the hole at once, in order the sooner to get relief by a draught of the water. Certainly my patience was greatly tempted; but I never was what is called a rash boy, and in that dark hour I felt more than ever in my life the necessity of prudence and caution. I knew that death—a horrid death from thirst—awaited me, if I did not succeed in getting at the contents of the cask; and should any accident happen to the knife, should the blade break, or even the point be snapped off, this death would surely be my fate. No wonder, then, I took the precaution to examine well my weapon and ascertain its strength. I might have acted with more recklessness had I reflected more. Even had I been certain of procuring the water, what then? It could only save me from dying of thirst. But hunger? How was that to be relieved? Water was drink, but not food. Where was I to find food?Strange to say, I did not think of food at that moment. I was not yet hungry, and the agony of thirst had hitherto been my only apprehension, precluding all thoughts of the kindred appetite. The prospect of the nearer danger—that of perishing from the want of water—had hindered my mind from dwelling on that which was more remote; and, strange to say, I had as yet scarce given a thought to what shortly after became my exclusive apprehension—the danger of dying by hunger.It is certain, therefore, that had I reflected on this, I should have proceeded with less prudence. Fortunately, I did not reflect; but set about the accomplishment of my purpose with due method and caution.I selected a spot in the side of the cask, where one of the staves appeared to be a little chafed and damaged. I chose it better than half-way from the top. The cask might be only half full, though that was not likely. If so, it would be necessary for me to make my tap below the surface of the water, otherwise I should have to make it over again. A hole would have been of no use to me, unless it entered below the water-line.Having chosen the spot, I at once set to work, and in a short while had the gratification to find that I was rapidly hollowing out a space in the thick stave. The knife behaved admirably, and hard as was the oak, it had to yield to the harder steel of that beautiful blade. Bit by bit, and chip by chip, the wood was detached before its keen point; and as each fresh fibre was loosened, I seized it with my fingers and pulled it off, to make way for the blade.For more than an hour I kept on, of course working in darkness. I had by this time grown so familiar with darkness, that I he longer experienced the feeling of helplessness one always has when suddenly plunged into it. My sense of touch seemed to have become keener and more delicate, as is well-known to be the case with those who are blind. I felt no difficulty on the score of light; and as it would have availed but little for the work in which I was engaged, I never even thought of its absence.I did not progress as fast as a carpenter would have done with his mortising chisel, or a cooper with his breast-bit or auger; but I had the gratification of knowing that I was progressing. Though slowly, I perceived that the hollow was getting deeper and deeper; the stave could not be more than an inch in thickness: surely I should soon be through it?I could have done the business in less time, had I been more reckless of consequences; but I feared to strain too heavily upon the blade, and, remembering the old adage, “The more haste the less speed,” I handled the precious tool with care.It was more than an hour before I approached the inner surface of the plank. I knew that I was nearly through it from the depth to which I had cut.My hand now trembled as I worked. My heart beat loudly against my ribs. It was a moment of vivid emotion. A fearful thought was in my mind—a dread doubt was troubling me—a doubt that it waswater! This doubt had occurred to me at an earlier period, but at no time did I feel it so intensely as at that moment, just upon the eve of its solution.Oh, heaven! should it not be water after all—should the contents of the cask prove to be rum or brandy, or even wine! I knew that none of these would avail to quench my burning thirst. For the moment they might, but only for the moment; it would return fiercer and more craving than ever. Oh! if it should be one, or any of them, then indeed was I lost—then indeed might I yield up my last hope, and die as men have often died, under the madness of intoxication!I was close to the inner surface of the stave; moisture was already oozing through the wood, where it had been penetrated by the point of the blade. I hesitated to make the last cut; I dreaded the result.I hesitated but a short while. The torture of my thirst impelled me on; and plunging the blade deeply, I felt the last fibres yielding to its point. Almost at the same instant a cold spray rushed out, sprinkling my hand upon the haft, and rushing far up my sleeve.After giving the blade a twist, I drew it out, and then a jet shot forth, as if forced from a syringe. In another instant my lips covered the vent, and I drank delicious draughts—not of spirits, not of wine—but of water, cold and sweet as though it issued from a rock of limestone!

I had stretched myself lengthwise in my cell, and was lying upon my right side, with my head resting upon my arm. While thus placed, I felt something pressing against my thigh, as though there was a protuberance on the plank, or some piece of hard material under me. It began to give me pain, and I reached down my hand to remove it, at the same time raising my body so that I might get at it. I was a little surprised on not finding anything, but the next moment I perceived that the hard substance that annoyed me was not upon the planks, but inside the pocket of my trousers!

What had I got there? I remembered nothing, and might have supposed it was some fragments of biscuit; but these I had deposited in the pockets of my jacket, and they could not have got down to my trousers. I felt the article from the outside. It was something very hard, and of a longish shape; but I could not think what, for as yet I could remember nothing that I had carried, with the exception of the biscuits and cheese.

I had to raise myself up in order to insert my hand into the pocket, and not until I had done so was I made acquainted with the nature of its contents. The hard oblong thing that had thus attracted my attention was the knife given me by the sailor, Waters; and which, having thrust mechanically into my pocket at the moment of receiving it, I had quite forgotten.

The discovery caused me no particular emotion at the moment. Simply a thought of the kindness of the sailor as contrasted with the brutality of the mate—just the same thought that passed through my mind at the time the gift was presented. With this reflection I drew forth the knife, and flinging it down beside me, so that it might be out of the way, I lay down on my side as before.

But I had scarcely stretched myself, when an idea crossed my mind, that prompted me to start up again, as suddenly as if I had lain down upon red-hot iron. Unlike the latter, however, it was not a feeling of pain that caused this quick movement, but one of pleasure—of joyful hope. It had just occurred to me that with the knife I might make a hole in the side of the cask, and thus reach the water!

So practicable did the design appear, that I had not a doubt of being able to accomplish it; and the certainty I now felt of getting at the precious contents of the cask, produced a complete revulsion in my feelings—another sudden transition from despair to hope. I groped eagerly about, and soon recovered the knife. I had scarce looked at it, on receiving it from the hands of the friendly sailor. Now I examined it carefully—by the touch, of course—I felt it all over; and as well as I was able by such a test, calculated its strength and fitness for the work I had designed for it.

It was what is termed a “jack-knife,” with a buckhorn handle, and but one blade—a sort in common use among sailors, who usually carry them on a string passed around the neck, and to which the knife is attached by a hole drilled in the haft. The blade was a square one, drawn to an angular point, and shaped somewhat like the blade of a razor. Like the latter, too, the back was thick and strong, as I could tell by the “feel.” I was gratified at perceiving this, for I knew that it would require a strong blade to hew a hole through the tough staves of oak.

The instrument I held in my hands was the very thing for the purpose, almost as good as a chisel. Haft and blade were nearly of equal length, and when opened out, they measured about ten inches together.

I have been thus particular in describing this knife; and from me it merits all that has been said, and far more, in praise of its good qualities; since, but for it, I should not now be alive to give an account of its wonderful performances.

Well, having opened the knife, and drawn my fingers along the blade, and felt it over and over again, in order to get acquainted with its form and fitness; and then, having examined the back-spring, and tried its strength by various openings and shuttings: having done all this, I went to work upon the hard oak.

You will wonder that I wanted to take all these precautions. You will fancy that, tortured as I was by thirst, I would scarce have had so much patience, but would have set about making the hole at once, in order the sooner to get relief by a draught of the water. Certainly my patience was greatly tempted; but I never was what is called a rash boy, and in that dark hour I felt more than ever in my life the necessity of prudence and caution. I knew that death—a horrid death from thirst—awaited me, if I did not succeed in getting at the contents of the cask; and should any accident happen to the knife, should the blade break, or even the point be snapped off, this death would surely be my fate. No wonder, then, I took the precaution to examine well my weapon and ascertain its strength. I might have acted with more recklessness had I reflected more. Even had I been certain of procuring the water, what then? It could only save me from dying of thirst. But hunger? How was that to be relieved? Water was drink, but not food. Where was I to find food?

Strange to say, I did not think of food at that moment. I was not yet hungry, and the agony of thirst had hitherto been my only apprehension, precluding all thoughts of the kindred appetite. The prospect of the nearer danger—that of perishing from the want of water—had hindered my mind from dwelling on that which was more remote; and, strange to say, I had as yet scarce given a thought to what shortly after became my exclusive apprehension—the danger of dying by hunger.

It is certain, therefore, that had I reflected on this, I should have proceeded with less prudence. Fortunately, I did not reflect; but set about the accomplishment of my purpose with due method and caution.

I selected a spot in the side of the cask, where one of the staves appeared to be a little chafed and damaged. I chose it better than half-way from the top. The cask might be only half full, though that was not likely. If so, it would be necessary for me to make my tap below the surface of the water, otherwise I should have to make it over again. A hole would have been of no use to me, unless it entered below the water-line.

Having chosen the spot, I at once set to work, and in a short while had the gratification to find that I was rapidly hollowing out a space in the thick stave. The knife behaved admirably, and hard as was the oak, it had to yield to the harder steel of that beautiful blade. Bit by bit, and chip by chip, the wood was detached before its keen point; and as each fresh fibre was loosened, I seized it with my fingers and pulled it off, to make way for the blade.

For more than an hour I kept on, of course working in darkness. I had by this time grown so familiar with darkness, that I he longer experienced the feeling of helplessness one always has when suddenly plunged into it. My sense of touch seemed to have become keener and more delicate, as is well-known to be the case with those who are blind. I felt no difficulty on the score of light; and as it would have availed but little for the work in which I was engaged, I never even thought of its absence.

I did not progress as fast as a carpenter would have done with his mortising chisel, or a cooper with his breast-bit or auger; but I had the gratification of knowing that I was progressing. Though slowly, I perceived that the hollow was getting deeper and deeper; the stave could not be more than an inch in thickness: surely I should soon be through it?

I could have done the business in less time, had I been more reckless of consequences; but I feared to strain too heavily upon the blade, and, remembering the old adage, “The more haste the less speed,” I handled the precious tool with care.

It was more than an hour before I approached the inner surface of the plank. I knew that I was nearly through it from the depth to which I had cut.

My hand now trembled as I worked. My heart beat loudly against my ribs. It was a moment of vivid emotion. A fearful thought was in my mind—a dread doubt was troubling me—a doubt that it waswater! This doubt had occurred to me at an earlier period, but at no time did I feel it so intensely as at that moment, just upon the eve of its solution.

Oh, heaven! should it not be water after all—should the contents of the cask prove to be rum or brandy, or even wine! I knew that none of these would avail to quench my burning thirst. For the moment they might, but only for the moment; it would return fiercer and more craving than ever. Oh! if it should be one, or any of them, then indeed was I lost—then indeed might I yield up my last hope, and die as men have often died, under the madness of intoxication!

I was close to the inner surface of the stave; moisture was already oozing through the wood, where it had been penetrated by the point of the blade. I hesitated to make the last cut; I dreaded the result.

I hesitated but a short while. The torture of my thirst impelled me on; and plunging the blade deeply, I felt the last fibres yielding to its point. Almost at the same instant a cold spray rushed out, sprinkling my hand upon the haft, and rushing far up my sleeve.

After giving the blade a twist, I drew it out, and then a jet shot forth, as if forced from a syringe. In another instant my lips covered the vent, and I drank delicious draughts—not of spirits, not of wine—but of water, cold and sweet as though it issued from a rock of limestone!

Chapter Twenty Five.The Vent-Peg.Oh! how I drank of that delicious water! I thought I should never be satisfied; but at length satiety was produced, and I thirsted no more.The effect was not immediate—the first long draught did not relieve me, or only for a time. I longed again, and again placed my lips to the spouting stream; and this I did repeatedly, until the longing returned not, and the pangs of thirst were forgotten as if I had never felt them!It is beyond the power of the imagination to form any idea of the agony of thirst—mere fancy cannot realise it. It must be experienced to be known, but a proof of its intensity might be given by adducing the horrible alternatives to which men have resorted when reduced to the extremity of this torturing pain. And yet, withal, as soon as the craving is appeased, so soon as a sufficient quantity of water has passed the lips, the pain exists no more, but ends with the suddenness of a dream! No other bodily ill can be so quickly healed.My thirst was now gone, and I felt buoyant; but my habitual prudence did not forsake me. During the intervals when my lips were removed from the vent, I had kept the water from running by pressing the end of my fore-finger into the hole, and using it as a stopper. Something whispered me that it would be well not to waste the precious fluid, and I resolved to obey the suggestion. When I had finished drinking, I used my finger as before; but after a little, I grew tired of making a vent-peg of my finger, and looked about for something else. I groped all over the bottom timbers, but could find nothing—not the smallest piece of stick within reach of my right hand. It was the fore-finger of my left that was playing vent-peg; and I dared not remove it, else the water would have gushed forth in a tolerably thick, and therefore a wasteful, jet.I bethought me of a piece of cheese, and I drew what remained from my pocket. It was of too excellent a quality for the purpose, and crumbled as I applied it to the aperture. It was forced out of my fingers by the strength of the spouting water. A biscuit would have been equally unserviceable. What was I to do?In answer to this interrogatory, it occurred to me that I might caulk the hole with a rag from my jacket. It was fustian, and would answer admirably.No sooner thought of, than with my knife I cut a piece from the flap, and placing it over the hole, and punching it well in with the blade, I succeeded in stopping the run, though I could perceive that it yet leaked a little. This, however, would not signify. I only intended the piece of cloth for a temporary stopper, until I could cast around, and contrive something better.I was once more free to reflect, and I need not tell you that my reflections soon guided me back to despair. To what purpose had I been saved from death by thirst? It would only be a protraction of my misery—a few hours more of wretched existence—for certainly I must meet death by hunger. There was no alternative. My little stock was almost consumed. Two biscuits, and a handful of cheese-crumbs, were all that remained. I might make another meal upon them—a very slight one; and then—ay, then—hunger, gnawing hunger—weakness—feebleness—exhaustion—death!Strange to say that while suffering from thirst, I had not thought of dying by hunger. It would be more exact to say I hadscarcethought of it. At intervals, some glimpses of such a fate had been before my mind’s eye; but, as I have already stated, the stronger agony eclipsed the weaker, and rendered it almost uncared for.Now, however, that all fears of the former were removed, the dread of the latter usurped its place. The little interval of buoyant feeling which I experienced, was merely the consequence of my unexpected relief from a painful suffering, and only lasted until calm reflection returned. In a few minutes it was over, and my apprehension of death became as acute as ever. It is wrong to call it an apprehension, for it was a positive certainty that stared me in the face. I had not given five minutes’ thought to my situation, till I felt as certain of death as I was that I still lived. There was no hope of escape from my prison—that I had given up long ago; and since I had nothing to eat, and not the slightest hope of obtaining anything, how was I to live? It required no reasoning to find an answer to the question.Perish I must, and by hunger—there was no alternative, unless I chose to die by my own hand. I was now aware that I possessed the means to effect the latter, but strange to say, the madness that would have prompted me to it, during the first throes of my despair, was gone; and I could now contemplate death with a calmness that surprised me.Three modes of dying were possible, and within my reach—thirst, hunger, and suicide; and it may astonish you to know that the next thing I did was to take into consideration which of the three it would be easiest to endure.This in reality was the leading idea in my mind as soon as I became convinced that Imustdie. You need not be astonished. Only imagine yourselves in my situation, and you will perceive that such thoughts were but natural.The first of these three I rejected at once—itcould not be the easiest. I had almost tried it, and my experience satisfied me that existence could scarce be ended in a less gentle way. Only upon the two last, therefore, did my mind dwell; and for some time I sat coolly weighing the one against the other. Unfortunately, my young days had been passed in a manner almost heathenish; and at that time I did not even know that taking one’s own life was a crime. This consideration, therefore, had no weight in the balance, and all I had to guide me was the conjecture as to which of the two modes of death would be least painful!And I sat for a long while—coolly and calmly I sat—engaged in this singular contemplation.Good and evil must be instinctive. Something within told me it would be wrong to take away the life which God had given, even though the act might save me from protracted pain.This thought triumphed; and, mustering all my courage, I resolved to await the event, whatever time it might please God to put a termination to my misery.

Oh! how I drank of that delicious water! I thought I should never be satisfied; but at length satiety was produced, and I thirsted no more.

The effect was not immediate—the first long draught did not relieve me, or only for a time. I longed again, and again placed my lips to the spouting stream; and this I did repeatedly, until the longing returned not, and the pangs of thirst were forgotten as if I had never felt them!

It is beyond the power of the imagination to form any idea of the agony of thirst—mere fancy cannot realise it. It must be experienced to be known, but a proof of its intensity might be given by adducing the horrible alternatives to which men have resorted when reduced to the extremity of this torturing pain. And yet, withal, as soon as the craving is appeased, so soon as a sufficient quantity of water has passed the lips, the pain exists no more, but ends with the suddenness of a dream! No other bodily ill can be so quickly healed.

My thirst was now gone, and I felt buoyant; but my habitual prudence did not forsake me. During the intervals when my lips were removed from the vent, I had kept the water from running by pressing the end of my fore-finger into the hole, and using it as a stopper. Something whispered me that it would be well not to waste the precious fluid, and I resolved to obey the suggestion. When I had finished drinking, I used my finger as before; but after a little, I grew tired of making a vent-peg of my finger, and looked about for something else. I groped all over the bottom timbers, but could find nothing—not the smallest piece of stick within reach of my right hand. It was the fore-finger of my left that was playing vent-peg; and I dared not remove it, else the water would have gushed forth in a tolerably thick, and therefore a wasteful, jet.

I bethought me of a piece of cheese, and I drew what remained from my pocket. It was of too excellent a quality for the purpose, and crumbled as I applied it to the aperture. It was forced out of my fingers by the strength of the spouting water. A biscuit would have been equally unserviceable. What was I to do?

In answer to this interrogatory, it occurred to me that I might caulk the hole with a rag from my jacket. It was fustian, and would answer admirably.

No sooner thought of, than with my knife I cut a piece from the flap, and placing it over the hole, and punching it well in with the blade, I succeeded in stopping the run, though I could perceive that it yet leaked a little. This, however, would not signify. I only intended the piece of cloth for a temporary stopper, until I could cast around, and contrive something better.

I was once more free to reflect, and I need not tell you that my reflections soon guided me back to despair. To what purpose had I been saved from death by thirst? It would only be a protraction of my misery—a few hours more of wretched existence—for certainly I must meet death by hunger. There was no alternative. My little stock was almost consumed. Two biscuits, and a handful of cheese-crumbs, were all that remained. I might make another meal upon them—a very slight one; and then—ay, then—hunger, gnawing hunger—weakness—feebleness—exhaustion—death!

Strange to say that while suffering from thirst, I had not thought of dying by hunger. It would be more exact to say I hadscarcethought of it. At intervals, some glimpses of such a fate had been before my mind’s eye; but, as I have already stated, the stronger agony eclipsed the weaker, and rendered it almost uncared for.

Now, however, that all fears of the former were removed, the dread of the latter usurped its place. The little interval of buoyant feeling which I experienced, was merely the consequence of my unexpected relief from a painful suffering, and only lasted until calm reflection returned. In a few minutes it was over, and my apprehension of death became as acute as ever. It is wrong to call it an apprehension, for it was a positive certainty that stared me in the face. I had not given five minutes’ thought to my situation, till I felt as certain of death as I was that I still lived. There was no hope of escape from my prison—that I had given up long ago; and since I had nothing to eat, and not the slightest hope of obtaining anything, how was I to live? It required no reasoning to find an answer to the question.

Perish I must, and by hunger—there was no alternative, unless I chose to die by my own hand. I was now aware that I possessed the means to effect the latter, but strange to say, the madness that would have prompted me to it, during the first throes of my despair, was gone; and I could now contemplate death with a calmness that surprised me.

Three modes of dying were possible, and within my reach—thirst, hunger, and suicide; and it may astonish you to know that the next thing I did was to take into consideration which of the three it would be easiest to endure.

This in reality was the leading idea in my mind as soon as I became convinced that Imustdie. You need not be astonished. Only imagine yourselves in my situation, and you will perceive that such thoughts were but natural.

The first of these three I rejected at once—itcould not be the easiest. I had almost tried it, and my experience satisfied me that existence could scarce be ended in a less gentle way. Only upon the two last, therefore, did my mind dwell; and for some time I sat coolly weighing the one against the other. Unfortunately, my young days had been passed in a manner almost heathenish; and at that time I did not even know that taking one’s own life was a crime. This consideration, therefore, had no weight in the balance, and all I had to guide me was the conjecture as to which of the two modes of death would be least painful!

And I sat for a long while—coolly and calmly I sat—engaged in this singular contemplation.

Good and evil must be instinctive. Something within told me it would be wrong to take away the life which God had given, even though the act might save me from protracted pain.

This thought triumphed; and, mustering all my courage, I resolved to await the event, whatever time it might please God to put a termination to my misery.

Chapter Twenty Six.The Biscuit-Box.Having resolved, then, not to die by my own hand, I at the same time came to the resolution to live as long as I could. Though my two biscuits would not have served me for another good meal, I determined to make at least four out of them, and also to make the intervals between each two as long as possible—just as long as I could endure without eating.The desire of prolonging my existence had been gradually growing upon me, ever since I had been relieved from the torture of thirst; and it had now become as strong as at any period of my life. The truth is, I had a presentiment that I should still survive—that I was not going to perish of hunger; and this presentiment—though ever so slight, and entertained only at intervals—helped to sustain me with a sort of faint hope.I can hardly tell why I should have entertained it at all, so really hopeless appeared my situation. But then I remembered that, but a few hours before, the prospect of obtaining water was equally hopeless, and now I possessed enough to drown myself in. Fanciful as it may seem, this idea had occurred to me—that is, to drown myself! But the moment before, while contemplating the easiest means of death, that of drowning had actually come before my mind. I had often heard that it was about the least painful mode of terminating one’s existence. Indeed I might say that I had myself made trial of it.When saved by Harry Blew Iwasdrowned to all intents and purposes—so far as the suffering was concerned—and I am sure that had I been then permitted to go to the bottom, I should never have felt another pang. I was satisfied, therefore, that drowning was not so very hard a death; and I actually had it in consideration whether I should not cut my way into the great butt, and in this way end my misery! This was during my moments of despair, when I seriously contemplated self-destruction; but these moments had passed, and I again felt an unaccountable desire that my life should be prolonged.Perhaps this change in my sentiments is not so inexplicable. The strange circumstance of my finding the water, with the consequent escape from death by thirst, had something in it of a nature almost miraculous: something that suggested the hand of Providence stretched forth in my favour. That hand could equally aid me in other ways—could equally save me from starvation by hunger; and though I knew not how, it might yet deliver me from my fearful prison.Perhaps some ideas of this kind were passing in my mind, and it was from these I drew that indefinable presentiment that I should yet escape.I ate my half biscuit, and again drank of the water, for my thirst kept returning upon me, though it no longer gave me uneasiness. I caulked up the vent as before, and then sat down in silence.I had no idea of making any exertion. I had no hope that anything I could do would in the least degree alter my situation. What could I do? My hope—if hope I may call it—rested only upon fate, upon chance, or rather, I should say, upon God. But how the hand of Providence could be interposed on my behalf, I had not the slightest idea.Those dark, silent hours were hard to endure. It was only at intervals that I was cheered by the presentiment I have described; but in the far longer intervals between, I felt gloomy and despairing.Nearly twelve hours must have passed before I ate my second half biscuit. I waited as long as I could, but at length I was obliged to yield to the calls of hunger. The little morsel produced no satisfaction. It rather appeared to render my appetite more keen and craving. I drank copiously, but although the water filled my stomach, it had no effect in stifling the sensations of hunger.In about six hours after, I made another meal—another half biscuit gone. I could not endure longer; and when the tiny crumb was swallowed, I knew not that I had eaten. I was as hungry as ever!Scarce three hours was the next interval. My brave resolution to make the two biscuits last for as many days was to no purpose. Not one day had passed, and the last morsel had disappeared.What next? What should I eat next? I was as hungry as ever.I thought of my shoes. I had read of men sustaining themselves for a time by chewing up their boots, their belts, their gaiters, their pouches and saddles; in short, anything that was made of leather. Leather is an animal substance, and, even when tanned and manufactured, still possesses nutriment, though only in a slight degree. With these memories, then, I thought of my shoes.I was stooping down to unlace them, when I was startled by something cold that struck me upon the back of the head. It was a stream of water. The rag of fustian had been pressed out, and the water was escaping. The jet had fallen on the back of my head, just upon the bare part of the neck, and its coldness, together with the suddenness of the thing, caused me to start up in some surprise.Of course, my astonishment ceased as soon as I perceived what it was that had startled me.I placed my finger in the aperture, and groping about for the rag, soon found it, and recaulked the cask.This had now happened more than once, and much water had been wasted. The rag had become loosened by the action of the water, and was pressed out. It occurred to me that it might occur again while I was asleep, and most of the water in the butt might run off, and thus get lost altogether. Some precaution, therefore, must be taken—I must find a better stopper.With this idea I went to work to contrive one. I searched all around the “floor” of my cabin in hopes of picking up some stray chip, but no such thing was there.I bethought me of cutting a splint from one of the great ribs of the ship; and I made the attempt with my knife, but the wood was hard oak and painted, and defied all my efforts to split off a piece large enough for my purpose. In the end, no doubt, I should have succeeded; but just then it occurred to me that I could more easily get a supply from the box. This being a rough packing-case, was no doubt made of common deal; and from the touch I was convinced that it was so. Of course, being much softer than the oak, and more easily split with a knife, I should have a better chance of procuring what I wanted; and, moreover, a piece of deal would do better for a stopper.Shifting myself round, therefore, so as to face towards the box, I began to feel all over it for the best place to use my knife upon.At one of the corners I perceived the point of advantage, where one of the boards slightly projected above the level of the top. Into this board I sunk my blade, pressing it downward, and causing it to act both as a wedge and a chisel. I had given but one push upon it, when I perceived that the board was loose. The nails which had fastened it had either been broken off or drawn out, probably by the rough mauling it had got while being stowed. Whether or not, I felt that it was quite loose, and moved under my touch.I at once drew out the blade. I saw that I could pull off the board with my hands, and it would then be easier to split off the piece that I wanted. I laid the knife down, and applying my fingers to the projecting end of the board, I seized it firmly, and pulled with all my might.It yielded to my strength. There was some creaking and crackling, as the nails were drawn out or broken; and then a sound reached my ears that caused me to desist and listen. It was the sound of some hard objects escaping from out the box and falling with a rattle upon the timbers beneath.I was curious to know what these objects were, and letting go my hold, I stretched my hands downward, and groped for what had been spilled. I lifted two of similar shape and size, and as I ran my fingers over them, I could not restrain myself from giving utterance to a shout of joy.I have said that my touch had grown almost as delicate as that of a blind man; but had it been ever so obtuse, I could have told at that moment, what were the two flat round objects which I held between my fingers. There was no mistaking the “feel” of them. They werebiscuits!

Having resolved, then, not to die by my own hand, I at the same time came to the resolution to live as long as I could. Though my two biscuits would not have served me for another good meal, I determined to make at least four out of them, and also to make the intervals between each two as long as possible—just as long as I could endure without eating.

The desire of prolonging my existence had been gradually growing upon me, ever since I had been relieved from the torture of thirst; and it had now become as strong as at any period of my life. The truth is, I had a presentiment that I should still survive—that I was not going to perish of hunger; and this presentiment—though ever so slight, and entertained only at intervals—helped to sustain me with a sort of faint hope.

I can hardly tell why I should have entertained it at all, so really hopeless appeared my situation. But then I remembered that, but a few hours before, the prospect of obtaining water was equally hopeless, and now I possessed enough to drown myself in. Fanciful as it may seem, this idea had occurred to me—that is, to drown myself! But the moment before, while contemplating the easiest means of death, that of drowning had actually come before my mind. I had often heard that it was about the least painful mode of terminating one’s existence. Indeed I might say that I had myself made trial of it.

When saved by Harry Blew Iwasdrowned to all intents and purposes—so far as the suffering was concerned—and I am sure that had I been then permitted to go to the bottom, I should never have felt another pang. I was satisfied, therefore, that drowning was not so very hard a death; and I actually had it in consideration whether I should not cut my way into the great butt, and in this way end my misery! This was during my moments of despair, when I seriously contemplated self-destruction; but these moments had passed, and I again felt an unaccountable desire that my life should be prolonged.

Perhaps this change in my sentiments is not so inexplicable. The strange circumstance of my finding the water, with the consequent escape from death by thirst, had something in it of a nature almost miraculous: something that suggested the hand of Providence stretched forth in my favour. That hand could equally aid me in other ways—could equally save me from starvation by hunger; and though I knew not how, it might yet deliver me from my fearful prison.

Perhaps some ideas of this kind were passing in my mind, and it was from these I drew that indefinable presentiment that I should yet escape.

I ate my half biscuit, and again drank of the water, for my thirst kept returning upon me, though it no longer gave me uneasiness. I caulked up the vent as before, and then sat down in silence.

I had no idea of making any exertion. I had no hope that anything I could do would in the least degree alter my situation. What could I do? My hope—if hope I may call it—rested only upon fate, upon chance, or rather, I should say, upon God. But how the hand of Providence could be interposed on my behalf, I had not the slightest idea.

Those dark, silent hours were hard to endure. It was only at intervals that I was cheered by the presentiment I have described; but in the far longer intervals between, I felt gloomy and despairing.

Nearly twelve hours must have passed before I ate my second half biscuit. I waited as long as I could, but at length I was obliged to yield to the calls of hunger. The little morsel produced no satisfaction. It rather appeared to render my appetite more keen and craving. I drank copiously, but although the water filled my stomach, it had no effect in stifling the sensations of hunger.

In about six hours after, I made another meal—another half biscuit gone. I could not endure longer; and when the tiny crumb was swallowed, I knew not that I had eaten. I was as hungry as ever!

Scarce three hours was the next interval. My brave resolution to make the two biscuits last for as many days was to no purpose. Not one day had passed, and the last morsel had disappeared.

What next? What should I eat next? I was as hungry as ever.

I thought of my shoes. I had read of men sustaining themselves for a time by chewing up their boots, their belts, their gaiters, their pouches and saddles; in short, anything that was made of leather. Leather is an animal substance, and, even when tanned and manufactured, still possesses nutriment, though only in a slight degree. With these memories, then, I thought of my shoes.

I was stooping down to unlace them, when I was startled by something cold that struck me upon the back of the head. It was a stream of water. The rag of fustian had been pressed out, and the water was escaping. The jet had fallen on the back of my head, just upon the bare part of the neck, and its coldness, together with the suddenness of the thing, caused me to start up in some surprise.

Of course, my astonishment ceased as soon as I perceived what it was that had startled me.

I placed my finger in the aperture, and groping about for the rag, soon found it, and recaulked the cask.

This had now happened more than once, and much water had been wasted. The rag had become loosened by the action of the water, and was pressed out. It occurred to me that it might occur again while I was asleep, and most of the water in the butt might run off, and thus get lost altogether. Some precaution, therefore, must be taken—I must find a better stopper.

With this idea I went to work to contrive one. I searched all around the “floor” of my cabin in hopes of picking up some stray chip, but no such thing was there.

I bethought me of cutting a splint from one of the great ribs of the ship; and I made the attempt with my knife, but the wood was hard oak and painted, and defied all my efforts to split off a piece large enough for my purpose. In the end, no doubt, I should have succeeded; but just then it occurred to me that I could more easily get a supply from the box. This being a rough packing-case, was no doubt made of common deal; and from the touch I was convinced that it was so. Of course, being much softer than the oak, and more easily split with a knife, I should have a better chance of procuring what I wanted; and, moreover, a piece of deal would do better for a stopper.

Shifting myself round, therefore, so as to face towards the box, I began to feel all over it for the best place to use my knife upon.

At one of the corners I perceived the point of advantage, where one of the boards slightly projected above the level of the top. Into this board I sunk my blade, pressing it downward, and causing it to act both as a wedge and a chisel. I had given but one push upon it, when I perceived that the board was loose. The nails which had fastened it had either been broken off or drawn out, probably by the rough mauling it had got while being stowed. Whether or not, I felt that it was quite loose, and moved under my touch.

I at once drew out the blade. I saw that I could pull off the board with my hands, and it would then be easier to split off the piece that I wanted. I laid the knife down, and applying my fingers to the projecting end of the board, I seized it firmly, and pulled with all my might.

It yielded to my strength. There was some creaking and crackling, as the nails were drawn out or broken; and then a sound reached my ears that caused me to desist and listen. It was the sound of some hard objects escaping from out the box and falling with a rattle upon the timbers beneath.

I was curious to know what these objects were, and letting go my hold, I stretched my hands downward, and groped for what had been spilled. I lifted two of similar shape and size, and as I ran my fingers over them, I could not restrain myself from giving utterance to a shout of joy.

I have said that my touch had grown almost as delicate as that of a blind man; but had it been ever so obtuse, I could have told at that moment, what were the two flat round objects which I held between my fingers. There was no mistaking the “feel” of them. They werebiscuits!

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