The particular species of flying-fish that had fallen into the clutches
of the two starving castaways upon the raft was the _Exocetus evolans_,
or "Spanish flying-fish" of mariners,--a well-known inhabitant of the
warmer latitudes of the Atlantic. Its body was of a steel-blue, olive
and silvery white underneath, with its large pectoral fins (its wings)
of a powdered grey colour. It was one of the largest of its kind, being
rather over twelve inches in length, and nearly a pound in weight.
Of course, it afforded but a very slight meal for two hungry stomachs,--
such as were those of Ben Brace and his boy companion. Still it helped
to strengthen them a little; and its opportune arrival upon the raft--
which they could not help regarding as providential--had the further
effect of rendering them for a time more cheerful and hopeful.
It is not necessary to say that they ate the creature without cooking
it; and although under ordinary circumstances this might be regarded as
a hardship, neither was at that moment in the mood to be squeamish.
They thought the dish dainty enough. It was its quantity--not the
quality--that failed to give satisfaction.
Indeed the flying-fish is (when cooked, of course) one of the most
delicious of morsels,--a good deal resembling the common herring when
caught freshly, and dressed in a proper manner.
It seemed, however, as if the partial relief from hunger only aggravated
the kindred appetite from which the occupants of the raft had already
begun to suffer. Perhaps the salt-water, mingled with the saline juices
of the fish, aided in producing this effect. In any case, it was not
long after they had eaten the _Exocetus_ before both felt thirst in its
very keenest agony.
Extreme thirst, under any circumstances, is painful to endure; but under
no conditions is it so excruciating as in the midst of the ocean. The
sight of water which you may not drink,--the very proximity of that
element,--so near that you may touch it, and yet as useless to the
assuaging of thirst as if it was the parched dust of the desert,--
increases rather than alleviates the appetite. It is to no purpose,
that you dip your fingers into the briny flood, and endeavour to cool
your lips and tongue by taking it into the mouth. To swallow it is
still worse. You might as well think to allay thirst by drinking liquid
fire. The momentary moistening of the mouth and tongue is succeeded by
an almost instantaneous parching of the salivary glands, which only glow
with redoubled ardour.
Ben Brace knew this well enough; and once or twice that little William
lifted the sea-water on his palm and applied it to his lips, the sailor
cautioned him to desist, saying that it would do him more harm than
good.
In one of his pockets Ben chanced to have a leaden bullet, which he gave
the boy, telling him to keep it in his mouth and occasionally to chew
it. By this means the secretion of the saliva was promoted; and
although it was but slight, the sufferer obtained a little relief.
Ben himself held the axe to his lips, and partly by pressing his tongue
against the iron, and partly by gnawing the angle of the blade,
endeavoured to produce the same effect.
It was but a poor means of assuaging that fearful thirst that was now
the sole object of their thoughts,--it might be said their only
sensation,--for all other feelings, both of pleasure or pain, had become
overpowered by this one. On food they no longer reflected, though still
hungry; but the appetite of hunger, even when keenest, is far less
painful than that of thirst. The former weakens the frame, so that the
nervous system becomes dulled, and less sensible of the affliction it is
enduring; whereas the latter may exist to its extremest degree, while
the body is in full strength and vigour, and therefore more capable of
feeling pain.
They suffered for several hours, almost all the time in silence. The
words of cheer which the sailor had addressed to his youthful comrade
were now only heard occasionally, and at long intervals, and when heard
were spoken in a tone that proclaimed their utterance to be merely
mechanical, and that he who gave tongue to them had but slight hope.
Little as remained, however, he would rise from time to time to his
feet, and stand for a while scanning the horizon around him. Then as
his scrutiny once more terminated in disappointment, he would sink back
upon the canvas, and half-kneeling, half-lying, give way for an interval
to a half stupor of despair.
From one of these moods he was suddenly aroused by circumstances which
had made no impression on his youthful companion, though the latter had
also observed it. It was simply the darkening of the sun by a cloud
passing over its disc.
Little William wondered that an incident of so common character should
produce so marked an effect as it had done upon his protector: for the
latter on perceiving that the sun had become shadowed instantly started
to his feet, and stood gazing up towards the sky. A change had come
over his countenance. His eyes, instead of the sombre look of despair
observable but the moment before, seemed now to sparkle with hope. In
fact, the cloud which had darkened the face of the sun appeared to have
produced the very opposite effect upon the face of the sailor!