Chapter 28 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
Going on “Rations”
I was full of complacence. There was nothing now to cause me uneasiness. The prospect of being cooped up for six months might have been very unpleasant under other circumstances, but after the far more terrible dread of horrid death from which I had just been delivered, it appeared as nothing; and I resolved to bear my long imprisonment with patience and resignation.
Six months I would have to endure this gloomy confinement—six months, at the least. There was but little probability of my being released before the expiration of a half-year: a long term—long and hard to be borne either by captive or criminal—hard even in a lighted chamber, with bed and fire, and well-cooked food, in daily converse with human beings, and the sound of human voices almost continually ringing in your ears. Even with these advantages, to be shut up for six months is a painful experience.
How much more painful would mine be, cramped up in close quarters, where I could neither stand erect nor lie at full length; neither couch, nor fire, nor light to give me comfort; breathing foul air, reclining upon the hardest of oak, living upon bread and water—the simplest diet upon which a human being could exist, and that unvaried by the slightest change, with no sound ever reaching my ear save the almost ceaseless creaking of the ship’s timbers, and the monotonous surging of the ocean wave—certainly six months of such an existence was not a pleasant prospect to contemplate.
Withal I regarded it not. I was still too happy at my deliverance from death, to be nice about the kind of life that was before me, though, as time passed, most probably I should grow tired enough of such a dreary existence.
Now I was all joy and confidence. Not so confident, however, as to rely upon conjecture—upon a mere guess as to the amount of my means of existence. Upon this point I was determined to be fully assured, and that without further loss of time. My stores, both of food and drink, I resolved to submit to actual measurement, in order to be satisfied as to whether they would be sufficient to last me till the end of the voyage.
Hitherto I had felt no apprehension upon this head. Such a large box of biscuit, and such an inexhaustible well of water, could never be expended. This was my first idea; but, after a little reflection, I began to have doubts. The constant drop will wear a hole in the hardest stone, and will also empty the largest cistern, if time be allowed it; and six months was a long time—nearly two hundred days—a very long time.
As I reflected thus, I grew a little uneasy as to the quantity both of my food and drink; and to put an end to all doubt upon the subject, I came to the above determination of measuring them. I recognised the prudence of such a course. If it turned out that there were plenty of both, and to spare, I should no longer be troubled with doubts; and if, on the other hand, there was a danger of either running short, I should then adopt the only precaution possible, and at once put myself on short rations!
When I look back, and think of my cunning at this early age, I am now astonished at it; but it is surprising what forethought even a child will exhibit, when placed in circumstances where self-preservation calls forth all its instincts and energies.
Without more ado, then, I proceeded to make my calculation. I allowed for time, the full six months; or in other terms, a period of 183 days. I did not even subtract the time—about a week, since we had set sail. That I set aside to my advantage, allowing the full period of 183 days, lest I might err by making the time too short. Surely, in six months, the vessel would reach her port, and her cargo be discharged? Surely, I might depend upon this?
No, not surely. I was far from being confident on this head. I knew that a voyage to Peru was usually reckoned a six months’ voyage; but I was not certain whether this was considered the average time; whether it would be accounted a long voyage or a short one; and, therefore, I had no confidence in basing my calculation on such uncertain data.
There was the danger of delay from calms in the tropical latitudes, through which we should have to pass—from storms off Cape Horn, renowned among mariners for the fickleness of its wind—other obstacles might be encountered, and the voyage protracted far beyond the period above mentioned.
I was not without such apprehensions, as I proceeded to examine my resources. To ascertain how long my stock of food would last, was simple and easy. I had only to count the biscuits, and find out their number. I knew their size, and that I could live on two a day, though I was not likely to grow fat on the allowance. Even one a day, or still less than that, would sustain life; and I resolved to be as sparing of them as I could.
I soon ascertained the exact number. The box, as nearly as I could guess, was about a yard long and two feet wide, by about one foot in depth; for I noticed that it was a shallow one set upon its edge. Had I known its exact dimensions, I could have told the number of biscuits without counting them. Each was a little less than six inches in diameter, and of an average thickness of three-fourths of an inch. Therefore, packed as they had been, there would be exactly 32 dozen in the case.
But counting them over one by one was no labour, on the contrary, it afforded pleasure to me; and drawing them forth out of the box, I told them off in dozens. I found that 32 dozen was the number, wanting eight; but the odd eight I was able to account for satisfactorily. I knew where they had gone.
Thirty-two dozen would make 384 biscuits; and, now that I had eaten eight of them, there remained exactly 376; which, at the rate of two per diem, would last for 188 days. True, 188 days would be a little over six months, but as I had not a clear confidence about the length of the voyage being only six months, I perceived that I must go on short rations, of less than two biscuits a day.
What, thought I, if there should be another box of biscuits behind the one I had emptied? That would secure me against all chances, and make my mind easy at once and for ever. What if there should be another? Was it unlikely? No: the reverse. In the stowage of a ship’s hold, there is not much order observed as regards the sort of goods that are placed in juxta-position, but rather is regard paid to the size and shape of the packages; and things of a miscellaneous kind are often stowed together, according to convenience, as the particular piece—whether box, bale, or barrel—may fit into a particular space. Notwithstanding that I knew all this, still it was probable enough that two boxes of biscuits had been placed side by side.
How was I to ascertain? I could not get round the box, even now that I had emptied it; for, as already stated, it blocked up the whole aperture through which I had originally squeezed myself. Neither could I get over the top nor under it.
“Ha!” I exclaimed, as a thought suddenly suggested itself, “I shall go through it.”
The idea was feasible enough. The board which I had already pulled off, left an aperture wide enough to admit my body. This had been part of the top or lid. I could, therefore, get my head and shoulders inside, and with my knife cut a large hole in the bottom opposite. That would enable me to ascertain whether another biscuit-box was beyond.
I was not slow in putting my new design into execution. I first widened a little more the aperture in the top, so that I could work more conveniently; and then I attacked the bottom with my knife. The soft deal yielded pretty freely, but I had not made much progress in this way, when a better plan came into my head. I perceived that the bottom boards of the case were only nailed on—perhaps a little more securely than those of the top, but still not fast enough to resist the blows of a mallet or hammer. I had neither one nor the other, but I thought of a tolerable substitute—my heels. Laying myself, therefore, in a horizontal position, and placing my hands against the great rib to act as a support, I thrust both my feet inside the box. In this position I was able to administer such a series of lusty kicks upon the bottom boards, that one of them soon sprung its nails, and was pressed outward, until I felt it could be driven no farther on account of some weighty impediment beyond.
I now got back to my old position, and examined the progress I had made. I saw that I had dislodged a wide board, so far as the nails were concerned; but it still stood upright, and prevented me feeling what was behind it.
Using all my strength, I succeeded in pressing it to one side and then downward, until an aperture was obtained, through which I could thrust my hands. Sure enough, a box was on the other side—a rough packing-case, resembling that I had just broken through—but whether of like contents had yet to be determined. It would not take long to tell what it contained. I once more exerted my strength, and succeeded in pressing the loose board quite into a horizontal position, so that it no longer obstructed me. The other box was scarce two inches beyond; and falling to upon it with my blade, I soon penetrated through its side.
Alas! my hopes of finding more biscuit were doomed to disappointment. Some woollen substance—either coarse cloth or blankets closely-packed—filled the inside, feeling as solid to the touch as a piece of timber. There were no biscuits there; and I was now convinced I should have to take to the short rations, and make the best of what I already possessed.