For many hours I remained brooding over the altered state of my affairs,
with no thought arising to cheer me. I felt so hopeless that I did not
even take stock of the biscuits, or rather the crumbs that were left. I
guessed roughly by the size of the little heap that it might sustain
life--keeping up the very small ration I had been hitherto using--for
about ten days--not more. Ten days, then, or at most a fortnight, had I
to live, with the prospect of certain death at the end of that time--and
a death that experience told me must be slow and painful. I had already
suffered the extreme of hunger, almost to death, and I dreaded to try it
again; but there appeared no hope of escaping from such a doom--at
least, none appeared at the moment.
The shock that followed the discovery of my loss rendered me for a long
time unable to think clearly. My mind was dejected and pusillanimous--
my brain, as it were, paralysed--so that whenever I took to thinking, my
thoughts only wandered, or centred on the terrible doom that waited me.
In time a reaction arrived, and I was better able to reflect on the
circumstances in which I was now placed. Gradually hope dawned again,
though it was only, of an indistinct and very indefinite character--
literally but a "ray." The thought that occurred to me was simply this:
that as I had found one box of biscuits, why might there not be a
second? If not immediately beside the first, it might be near. As
stated already, I believed that in the stowage of a ship, goods of the
same kind are not always placed together, but miscellaneously--just as
the different packages may fit to the shape of the hold and to each
other. I had proof that this was the usual arrangement, since around
me, and in juxta-position, were articles of very different kinds--
biscuits, broadcloth, brandy, and the butt of water. Although there was
no second box of biscuits immediately adjoining the one already emptied,
there might be another _not far off_--perhaps just on the other side of
the cloth-box, or in some place where I might be able to _get at it_.
This, then, was the thought that inspired me with new hope.
As soon as I had conceived it, all my energies returned, and I set about
reflecting on what course I should take to ascertain whether there was
another biscuit-box that it was possible for me to reach.
The plan of reaching it was already shaped out in my mind. In fact,
there was but one way--with my knife. No other means were within my
reach, and therefore I thought of none. To cut a way with my knife
through such packages--boxes, bales, or barrels--as might lie between my
chamber and the desired biscuits, was the idea that had entered my mind,
and it seemed more feasible and practicable the longer I reflected upon
it. Deeds that would appear difficult, if not impossible, under
ordinary circumstances, present a different aspect to one whose life is
in danger, and who knows it may be saved by accomplishing them. The
direst hardships, and severest privations, become light trials when life
and death are on the issue.
It was from this point of view that I was compelled to contemplate the
feat I now intended to perform; and I thought but lightly of the time
and trouble, so long as there was a prospect of their saving me from
horrid death by starvation.
I resolved, therefore, to hew a way with my knife among the packages of
merchandise, in hopes of coming to one that contained food. If
successful, then I should live; if not, I must die. Another thought had
some effect in encouraging me to the attempt. It would be better for me
to pass my time still hoping, than to yield to despair and remain idle.
To live for two weeks in the certain anticipation of death, would have
been a thousand times more painful than death itself.
Far better to struggle on, nourishing hope with the exertions I should
be making for my safety. The very labour itself would help me to pass
the time, and hinder me from brooding too keenly on my doubtful fate.
Thus ran my reflections, as I became once more roused to the energy that
for awhile had forsaken me.
I was on my knees, knife in hand, resolved and ready. That precious
piece of steel, how prized at the moment! I would not have exchanged it
for the full of the ship of red gold!
I have said that I was upon my knees. I could not have stood erect, had
I wished it. There was not room. The ceiling of my cabin was too low.
Was it my peculiar attitude that suggested the thought? Perhaps it had
some influence. I cannot now remember; but I well remember that before
proceeding farther in my design, I offered up a prayer--humble and
earnest--to God, who had already, as I firmly believed, stretched forth
his hand to succour me. I prayed for guidance, for strength, for
success. I need not add that my prayer was heard, else I should not now
have been living to record it.
My intention was first to work through the cloth-box, and discover what
was behind it. That which had contained the biscuits was now empty, and
I could get through it without trouble. It will be remembered that I
had already been inside the biscuit-box while searching for another, and
also while procuring the pieces of cloth; and so far my way was clear.
But to get across the one in which the broadcloth was packed, it would
be necessary to pull out several more pieces, to give me room to work on
to the next. My knife, therefore, would not be needed at first
starting; and putting it aside, where I could easily lay my hands upon
it again, I ducked my head and crawled into the empty box. In another
minute I was pulling and tugging away at the stiff rolls of broadcloth--
all my strength being exerted, and all my energies employed in detaching
them from their places.