Chapter 26 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
The Biscuit-Box
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!