My sleep was neither very sweet nor very sound. In addition to my
gloomy prospects, I was rendered uncomfortable by the hot atmosphere,
now closer than ever, in consequence of the stoppage of every aperture.
No current of air, that might otherwise have cooled me, was permitted to
reach my prison, and I might almost as well have been inside a heated
oven. I got a little sleep, however, and with that little I was under
the necessity of being satisfied.
When fairly awake again, I treated myself to a meal, which might be
called my breakfast; but it was certainly the lightest of all
breakfasts, and did not deserve the name. Of water I again drank
freely, for I was thirsty with the fever that was in my blood, and my
head ached as if it would split open.
All this did not deter me from returning to my work. If two boxes
contained broadcloth, it did not follow that all the cargo was of this
sort of merchandise, and I resolved to persevere. I had made up my mind
to try in a new direction--that is, to tunnel through the end of the
packing-case as I had done through its side--the end which was turned
towards the outside--for I knew that the other rested against the side
of the ship, and it would be no use searching in that direction.
Taking my bread-bag with me as before, I went to work with renewed hope,
and after long and severe labour--severe on account of the crouching
attitude I had to keep, as also from the pain caused by my wounded
thumb--I succeeded in detaching one of the end pieces from its place.
Something _soft_ lay beyond. There was encouragement even in this. At
all events, it was not another case of broadcloth; but what it was, I
could not guess until I had laid bare the full breadth of the board.
Then my hands were eagerly passed through the aperture, and with
trembling fingers I examined this new object of interest. Coarse canvas
it appeared to the touch; but that was only the covering. What was
there inside?
Until I had taken up my knife again, and cut off a portion of the
canvas, I knew not what it was; but then, to my bitter disappointment,
the real nature of the package was revealed.
It proved to be _linen_--a bale of fine linen, packed in pieces, just as
the cloth had been; but so tight that if I had used all my strength I
could not have detached one piece from the bale.
The discovery of what it was, caused me greater chagrin than if it had
proved to be broadcloth. This I could take out with less difficulty,
and make way to try farther on; but with the linen I could do nothing,
for, after several attempts, I was unable to move any of the pieces, and
as to cutting a way through them, a wall of adamant would scarce have
been more impervious to the blade of my knife. It would have been the
work of a week at least. My provision would not keep me alive till I
had reached the other side. But I did not speculate on such a
performance. It was too manifestly impossible, and I turned away from
it without giving it another thought.
For a little while I remained inactive, considering what should be my
next movement. I did not rest long. Time was too precious to be wasted
in mere reflection. Action alone could save me; and, spurred on by this
thought, I was soon at work again.
My new design was simply to clear out the cloth from the second box, cut
through its farther side, and find out what lay in that direction.
As I had already made a way into the box, the first thing was to remove
the cloth. For the time my knife was laid aside, and I commenced
pulling out the pieces. It was no light labour, getting out the first
three or four. Unfortunately, the ends of the webs were towards me, and
this rendered it more difficult to separate them; but I continued to tug
and pull until I had extracted a few; and then the work became easier.
Just as in the other case, I found large coarse pieces that would not
pass through the aperture I had made; and not liking to take the pains
to make a wider opening in the wood, I adopted the same plan I had tried
before; that is, to cut the cloth loose from its fastenings, unroll it,
and draw it out by the yard.
This was easier, I thought; but, alas! it proved the source of a new and
unexpected dilemma, as I had occasion soon after to perceive.
I was getting on well enough, and had succeeded in clearing out a space
almost large enough to work in, when I was suddenly brought to a stop,
by finding that I had no room for any more cloth _behind me_! The whole
of the open space--including my little apartment, the biscuit-box, and
the other case--was quite full, for I had filled each in succession as I
went along. There was not a foot of space left--not so much as would
hold another web!
This discovery did not create an immediate alarm; for I did not at first
perceive the full consequence of it. It was only after a little
reflection, that I recognised the difficulty; and then I saw that it was
indeed a difficulty--a very dangerous dilemma.
It was plain that I could proceed no farther in my work without clearing
off the "back-water" that I had so thoughtlessly accumulated; and how
was this to be done? I could not destroy the cloth by burning, nor in
any other way that I could think of. I could not lessen its bulk, for I
had already pressed it together as closely as I had strength. How,
then, was it to be disposed of?
I now perceived the imprudence I had committed in unrolling the webs.
This was the cause of its having increased so in bulk though not
altogether, for the very taking out of the pieces--on account of the
tight pressure they had originally undergone while being packed in the
cases--of itself greatly enlarged their mass. To restore them to the
state in which I had found them, was no longer possible. They were
littered through and through in the most complete confusion, and I had
no room to work in, even to refold them again, since I could scarce move
about in the constrained quarters and attitude I was compelled to
assume. Even had I had ample space to work in, I could not easily have
got the stuff back to a suitable bulk; for the coarser material, elastic
as it was, would have required a screw-press to bring it to its former
size. I felt quite disheartened as I thought the thing over--more than
disheartened, again almost despairing.
But, no! it had not yet reached the point of despair with me. By
getting enough space for another piece or two, I should have room to cut
a hole through the opposite side of the box, and there was still hope
beyond. If, indeed, another case of broadcloth, or another bale of
linen, should be found there, it would then be time to yield myself up
to despair.
But hope in the human breast is hard to destroy, and it was so in mine.
So long as there is life, thought I, let there be hope; and, inspired
with the old proverb, I renewed my exertions.
After awhile, I succeeded in stowing away two more pieces; and this gave
me just room to creep inside the now nearly empty box, and go to work
again with my knife.
This time I had to cut the board across the middle, as the cloth on both
sides would not permit me to get at either end. It made little
difference, however; and when I had finished carving at the wood, I was
able to push out both sections, and make an aperture sufficient for my
purpose. I say sufficient for my purpose, for it only needed a hole
large enough to admit my hand; and, once protruding my fingers, I was
satisfied, as before, with a most melancholy result. _Another bale of
linen_!
Fatigued and faint, I could have fallen, had it been possible to fall
lower; but I was already upon my face, alike prostrate in body and soul!