Chapter 42 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
A Sound Sleep at Last
I was not disappointed. I slept for a period of twelve hours’ duration—not without many fearful dreams—terrible encounters with crabs and rats. So far as the comfort of the thing was concerned, I might almost as well have been awake, and actually engaged in such conflicts. My sleep was far from refreshing, notwithstanding its long continuance; but it was pleasant on awaking to find that my unwelcome visitors had not been back again, and that no breach had been made in my defences. I groped all around, and found that everything was just as I had left it.
For several days, I felt comparatively at my ease. I had no longer any apprehension of danger from the rats, though I knew they were still close to me. When the weather was calm (and it continued so for a long while), I could hear the animals outside, busy at whatever they had to do, rattling about among the packages of merchandise, and occasionally uttering spiteful shrieks, as if they were engaged in combats with each other. But their voices no longer terrified me, as I was pretty sure they could not get nearer me. Whenever, for any purpose, I removed one of the cloth pieces with which my little cabin was “chinked,” I took good care to return it to its place again, before any of the animals could know that the aperture was open.
I experienced a good deal of discomfort from being thus shut up. The weather was exceedingly warm; and as not a breath of air could reach me, or circulate through the apartment, it felt at times as hot as the inside of a baker’s oven. Very likely we were sailing under the line, or, at all events, in some part of the tropical latitudes; and this would account for the calmness of the atmosphere, since, in these latitudes, stormy weather is much more rare than in either of the so-called temperate zones. Once, indeed, during this time, we experienced a very sharp gale, which lasted for a day and night. It was succeeded as usual by a heavy swell, during which the ship tumbled about, as if she would turn bottom upwards.
I was not sea-sick on this occasion; but, as I had nothing to hold on by, I was sadly rolled about in my little cabin, now pitching head foremost against the butt, now falling backward upon the side of the ship, till every bone in my body was as sore as if I had been cudgelled! The rocking of the vessel, too, occasionally caused the boxes and barrels to move a little; and this had the effect of loosening the cloth caulking, and causing it to drop out. Still apprehensive of an inroad from the rats, I was kept busy, all the time the gale lasted, in plugging the crevices afresh.
Upon the whole, I think that this employment was pleasanter than doing nothing. It rather helped me to pass the time; and the two days during which the gale and swell kept me so occupied, seemed shorter than any other two. By far the bitterest hours were those in which I could find nothing at all to do—absolutely nothing to engage my thoughts. Then I would remain for long hours together—sometimes without making a motion, or changing the attitude in which I lay—sometimes without even having a thought; and thus dark, and lonely, and longing, I feared that my reason would forsake me, and that I should go mad!
In this way, two more weeks had passed over, as I knew by the notches on my stick. Otherwise they might have been months—ay, years—so long did the time appear. With the exception of the hours in which we experienced the gale, all the rest was complete monotony; and not one fact or occurrence transpired to make an impression on my memory.
During all this time, I had strictly adhered to my regulations regarding food and drink. Notwithstanding that I often hungered, and could have eaten up a week’s allowance at a single meal, I had not exceeded the prescribed ration. Many a time it cost me an effort to deny myself; and often the half biscuit, which was to serve for another meal, was put aside with most tardy reluctance, and seemed to cling to my fingers, as I placed it on the little shelf. But I congratulated myself that up to this time—with the exception of that day upon which I had eaten the four biscuits at a meal—I had been able to keep my resolve, and contend bravely against the craving appetite of hunger.
Thirsty I never was. I had no uneasiness on this score. My ration of water was quite enough for me, and more than enough. On most days I used far short of the allowance, and could drink as much as I wanted.
The supply of biscuits I had brought inside, when shutting myself up against the rats, was at length exhausted. I was glad of this. It proved that time was passing away—two weeks must have elapsed, as I had counted the biscuits at the commencement of this period, and found that they were just the allowance for so long. The time, then, had come round for me to go back to my larder, and procure a fresh supply.
As I proceeded to do so, a singular apprehension arose in my mind. It came suddenly, as if an arrow had been shot into my heart. It was the presentiment, of a great misfortune; or not exactly a presentiment, but a fear caused by something I had noticed only the minute before. I had heard a noise outside, which as usual I attributed to my neighbours the rats. Often, indeed almost continually, similar noises had proceeded from without, but none that impressed me like this, for it appeared to reach me from a new direction—the direction of the biscuit-box.
My fingers trembled as I removed the web; and still more as I thrust my hands into the box. Merciful heavens! the box was empty!
No, not empty. As I plunged my hand deeper, it rested upon something soft and smooth—a rat. The animal sprang suddenly aside as it felt my touch, and I drew back my hand with a like rapid movement. Mechanically I felt in another place, only to touch another rat, and then another, and another! The box appeared half full of them, side by side, as close as they could sit. They leaped about and scattered off in different directions, some even jumping against my breast, as they shot out by the aperture, and others striking the sides of the box, and uttering loud cries.
I succeeded in routing them. But, alas! when they were gone, and I proceeded to examine my store, I found, to my chagrin, that nearly the whole of my biscuits were gone too! All of them that were left were broken to pieces, and nothing remained in the box, but a pile of crumbs covering the bottom, upon which the rats had been feeding at the moment I surprised them.
This was an evil of the grandest magnitude; and I was so overwhelmed upon the discovery of it, that for a time I scarce knew what I was doing.
The consequences were plain enough. My provisions were gone—starvation stared me in the face. Nay, starvation was no longer a matter of doubt. It was now certain. The mumbled crumbs which the hideous robbers had left (and which they would also have eaten up in another hour, had I not surprised them) would not keep the life in me for a week; and what then? ay, what then! Starvation—death by hunger!
There was no alternative. So reasoned I, and how could it be otherwise?
For awhile, I felt reckless and despairing—almost reckless enough to refrain from taking any steps to hinder the rats from returning to the box. It was my belief, that I must in the end succumb to this misfortune—must starve—and it was no use procrastinating my fate. I might as well die at once, as at the end of the week. To live for days, knowing that death was certain, would be a terrible state of endurance—worse than death itself; and here again returned to me those dark suicidal thoughts, that had once before passed through my mind.
They troubled me only for a moment. The remembrance that I had had them before, and that then I had been delivered from them—as it were miraculously—that although I could not see how it was to be found, there might still be a way of escape—the hand of Providence, as it had done already, might still be held over me, and point out that way—these reflections and remembrances came back into my mind, and once more a ray of hope shone upon my future. True, there was no definite hope, but just enough to arouse me to fresh energy, and save me from absolute despair. The presence of the rats, too, had an effect in quickening my actions. I perceived that they were still close at hand, threatening to re-enter the box and finish their work of demolition. In truth, I could now only keep them out by making the most violent demonstrations.
I found that the place where they had got in was not the aperture which I myself used. That was closed up with the web, and they could not pass through there. They had entered on the opposite side, from the box of cloth, into which they had been able to make their way, since I had myself removed one of the boards out of its side. It had all been done recently; or, more likely, to cut through the thick plank had employed them for some time, and so delayed the execution of their design. But for this, they might have reached the inside sooner, and then not a morsel would have been left. No doubt it was for the purpose of getting at the biscuits that they had swarmed once or twice into my chamber—for that gave them free access to the box.
I now deeply regretted my negligence in not securing my store in a safe way. I had already thought of doing so, but I never imagined these creatures could make an entry from behind, and I knew that the web of cloth completely shut them out on the inside.
Alas! it was now too late; regrets were idle; and, following out that instinct which prompts us to preserve life as long as we can, I transferred the fragments from the box to my little shelf inside; and then, making all tight as before, I lay down to reflect upon my situation, rendered gloomier than ever by this unexpected misfortune.