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 I _was_ drowned 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 were
_biscuits_!