I remained in this state of insensibility for several hours, and was not
even troubled, as was usual when I slept, with painful dreams. I did
not dream at all; but, on awaking to consciousness, I had a dread
feeling upon me, just as if I had been cast from off the earth into
infinite space, and was rapidly floating onwards, or falling from some
great height, without ever reaching a point of rest. It was a feeling
of a most unpleasant kind--in fact, a feeling of horror.
Fortunately, it did not continue long; and as I endeavoured to rouse
myself it became less painful, and at length passed away. In its stead,
however, I felt sick at the stomach, and my head ached as though it
would split. Surely it was not the sea that had made me sick? No, it
could not be that. I was long since hardened against sea-sickness.
Even another storm would not have brought it on; but there was no
particular roughness. The ship was sailing under breezy but not stormy
weather.
Was it fever that had suddenly attacked me in a violent manner? or had I
fainted from want of strength? No; I had experienced both calamities,
but this new sensation resembled neither.
I was in reality at a loss to account for what was ailing me. In a
short time, however, my thoughts became clearer, and then the truth
dawned upon my mind. I had been in a _state of intoxication_!
Intoxication it must have been, though wine I had not tasted, nor brandy
neither--not a mouthful. I disliked it _too_ much for that; and
although there was plenty of it--or had been, for it was now all gone--
enough to have drowned myself in, I was not conscious of having drunk a
drop of it. True, a drop had passed into my mouth--a drop, or maybe a
spoonful, had gone down my throat when the torrent gushed over me; but
surely this small quantity could not have produced intoxication, even if
it had been liquor ever so much _above proof_? Impossible; it could not
have been that that produced intoxication!
And what, then? Something had made me _drunk_. Although I had never
been so in my life, yet I guessed the symptoms to mean only this.
As I continued to reflect--that is, as I grew more _sober_--the mystery
was cleared up, and I discovered the cause of my intoxication. It was
not brandy, but the "fumes" of brandy, that had done it--this, and
nothing else.
Even before entering the cask, I had noticed a decided change in my
feelings, for the fumes of the liquor, even outside, were strong enough
to make me sneeze; but this was nothing to the effluvia which I
encountered inside the vessel. At first I could scarcely breathe, but
by little and little I became accustomed to it, and rather liked it. No
wonder, since it was making me feel so strong and happy!
On cogitating further on this singular incident, I remembered how I came
to be outside the cask--how thirst had influenced me to come out; and I
now perceived how fortunate it was that I had followed the guidance of
this appetite. I have said that I did not know whether I had actually
quenched my thirst. I had no remembrance of going to the butt, or of
drawing a cup of water. I think I did not get so far. Had I done so,
in all probability I should have left out the vent-peg, and then a large
quantity of water would have been spilled. The water-line would have
been down to a level with the vent; and this, on examination, I gladly
perceived was not the case. Moreover, my drinking-cup felt too dry to
have been used lately. I had not drunk, then, and this was a fortunate
circumstance, though far more fortunate was the circumstance that I had
thirsted. Had it not been for this, I should no doubt have remained
inside the cask, and the consequence must have been disastrous indeed.
I cannot say what, but certainly some fatal result would have followed.
In all likelihood, I should have remained in a state of intoxication--
how was I ever to get sober?--every moment getting worse, until when?
Until death! Who knows?
A mere accidental circumstance, then, had once more saved my life; but
perhaps it was not accidental. It may have been the hand of Providence,
and I believed so at the time. If prayers express gratitude, mine were
given, and with all the fervour of my soul.
Whether I had allayed my thirst or not, certain it was that the
quenching had been but temporary; for I now felt as if I could drink the
butt dry. I lost no time in groping for my cup, and I am sure I did not
leave off till I had drunk nearly half a gallon of water.
The water removed a good deal of the sickness, and also cleared my
brains, as if it had washed them. Being once more restored to my proper
senses, I returned to the consideration of the perils by which I was
surrounded.
My first thought was about continuing the work I had so abruptly left
off, and only now did it occur to me that I might not be able to go on
with it. What if I was to get into the same state as before--what if my
senses again became stupefied, and I should not have presence of mind or
resolution to come out of the cask?
Perhaps I might labour away for awhile without getting into the same
state, and if I felt it coming on me I could hasten out? Perhaps! But
should it be otherwise? If the intoxication should come suddenly upon
me, how then? How long had it been before I felt it on the former
occasion? I tried to remember, but could not.
I remembered how this strange influence had stolen over me--how
soothingly and sweetly it came, wrapping my senses as if in a delightful
dream. How it had made me reckless of consequences, forgetful even of
my appalling situation!
Supposing that all was to be repeated--the same scene to be enacted over
again--and only one incident to be left out: that is, the thirst which
brought me forth from the cask--supposing all this? And why might it
not be just what would take place? I could not answer the question one
way or the other; but so strong were my apprehensions of the probability
that it might, that I hesitated _to re-enter the cask_!
There was no help for it, however. I must either do so, or die where I
lay. If death in the end was to be my fate, better far, thought I, to
die by this apparently easy mode; for I felt convinced, from the
experience I had had, that such death would be without a pang.
The reflection emboldened me, as well as the knowledge that I had no
alternative, no choice of plan; and again pronouncing a prayer, I
crawled back into the brandy-cask.