The Boy Tar Part 23

I had taken the usual precaution to close the gates of my fortress, and this time I slept my sleep out, undisturbed by the rats.

In the morning--or rather, I should say, in the hour of my awaking--I again ate and drank. I know not whether it was morning; for, in consequence of my watch having once or twice run down, I could no longer tell night from day; and my sleep, now not regular as formerly, failed to inform me of the hours. What I ate failed to satisfy hunger. All the food that was left me would not have sufficed for that; and not the least difficult part I had to perform, was the restraining myself from eating out my whole stock at a meal. I could easily have done it, and it required all my resolution to refrain. But my resolution was backed by the too certain knowledge that such a meal would be my last, and my abstinence was strengthened simply by the fear of starvation.

Having breakfasted, then, as sparingly as possible, and filled my stomach with water instead of food, I once more worked my way into the second cloth-box, determined to continue my search as long as strength was left me. There was not much left now. I knew that what I ate was barely sufficient to sustain life, and I felt that I was fast wasting away. My ribs projected like those of a skeleton, and it was as much as I could do to move the heavier pieces of the cloth.

One end of all the boxes, as already stated, was placed against the side of the s.h.i.+p. Of course, it was of no use tunnelling in that direction; but the end of the second case, which faced inwards, I had not yet tried. This was now my task.

I need not detail the particulars of the work. It resembled that I had executed already, and lasted for several successive hours. The result was, once again, a painful disappointment. Another bale of linen! I could go no farther in that direction. And now no farther in any direction!

Boxes of broadcloth and bales of linen were all around me. I could not penetrate beyond. I could not make a way through them. There was no room for further progress.

This was the melancholy conclusion at which I had arrived, and I was once more thrown back into my despairing mood.

Fortunately, this did not last long, for shortly after a train of thought came into my mind that prompted me to further action. It was memory that came to my aid. I remembered having read a book, which described very beautifully the struggles of a boy, amidst great difficulties--how he bravely refused to yield to each new disappointment; but, by dint of courage and perseverance, overcame every obstacle, and at last obtained success. I remembered, too, that this boy had adopted for his motto, the Latin word "Excelsior," which was explained to mean "_higher_" or "_upward_."

On reflecting upon the struggles which this boy had undergone, and how he had succeeded in surmounting so many difficulties--some even as great as those that surrounded myself--I was nerved to make a new effort.

But I believe it was this peculiar word, "Excelsior," that guided me in my after proceedings, for by its most literal sense was I directed.

_Upward_, thought I; I might search upward. Why did it not occur to me before? There might be food in this direction, as likely as in any other, and certainly I had no choice, as every other direction had been tried. I resolved, then, to search _upward_.

In another minute I was upon my back, knife in hand. I propped myself with pieces of cloth, so that I might work more conveniently, and after groping out one of the divisions of the lid, I commenced notching it crossways.

The board at length gave way to my exertions. I dragged it downwards.

Oh, heavens! were my hopes again destined to suffer defeat and mockery?

Alas! it was even so. The coa.r.s.e, hard-grained canvas, with the dull sodden ma.s.s behind it, answered me with a sad affirmative.

There yet remained the upper side of the other case, and then that of the biscuit-box. Both should be tried as a last effort, and that before I could again sleep.

And both _were_ tried, with like evil fortune. Upon the former rested a case of the cloth, while another bale of linen completely covered the top of the latter.

"Merciful G.o.d! am I forsaken?"

Such was my exclamation as I sank back into an att.i.tude of complete exhaustion.

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

A TORRENT OF BRANDY.

Sleep followed, brought on by weariness and long exertion; and when I awoke, I felt my strength greatly restored. Singular enough, my spirits were a good deal lighter, and I was far less despairing than I had been before. It seemed as if some supernatural influence sustained me-- perhaps an inspiration given by the great Creator himself, to enable me to persevere. Notwithstanding that my disappointments had been many and oft-repeated, I bore up under the infliction as meekly as I could, and never yet had I felt in my heart a rebellious feeling against G.o.d.

I still continued to offer up prayers for my success, and to place reliance upon the hope that His mercy would yet be extended to me. This feeling it was--I am sure it was--that upheld me, and kept me from falling into utter despondency.

On awaking again, as I have said, my spirits felt lighter, though I know not why, unless it was that I was cheered by some influence from above.

I can only account for it in this way, since there was no change in the circ.u.mstances that surrounded me--at least none for the better--nor had I conceived any new hope or plan.

It was certain that I could penetrate no further through the boxes of cloth and bales of linen, as I had no place to stow their contents behind me. That side, therefore, was now no longer the object of my attention.

There were still two other directions in which I might search--the one directly in front, and that toward the left, which last I knew to be in the direction of the bows of the s.h.i.+p.

In front, the s.p.a.ce was taken up by the great water-b.u.t.t, and of course I did not think of cutting a way through this. It would lead to the loss of my supply of water. I did for a moment imagine that I might make a hole high up above the water-line, through which I might squeeze my body, and then get through to the opposite side by making a second hole. I knew that the b.u.t.t was now scarce half full, as the heat had kept me almost continually athirst, and, confident in my supply, I had drunk large quant.i.ties. But it occurred to me that if I made this great opening, I might lose all my water in a single night. A sudden squall might arise--for several had been encountered already--and set the s.h.i.+p a-rolling. In that case, if the vessel, crank as she was, came near getting upon her beam-ends, which she often did, my b.u.t.t would be turned half over, and the water of course would all escape--the precious water that had hitherto stood my friend, and but for which I should have long ago miserably perished.

Another consideration influenced me not to touch the b.u.t.t: there was an easier direction to proceed in, and that was _through the brandy-cask_.

This stood end towards me, and, as already stated, shut me in upon the left. Its head or bottom--I could not say which--lay quite up against the end of the water-b.u.t.t; but for some reason it had been cleated closer up to the side timbers of the s.h.i.+p, so that there was hardly any vacant s.p.a.ce behind it. For this reason, nearly one half of its diameter overlapped the end of the water-b.u.t.t--the other half completing the enclosure of my cabin.

Through this last half I resolved to cut my way, and then, creeping inside the cask, to make another hole that would let me through its opposite side.

Perhaps, beyond the brandy-cask I might find food and safety? It was only blind guessing on my part; but I again prayed for success.

Making an incision across the thick oak plank that formed the bottom staves, was a very different affair from cutting through soft spruce deal, and I progressed but slowly. A beginning had already been made, however, where I had formerly tapped the cask; and entering my blade at this same hole, I worked away until I had cut one of the pieces clear across. I then put on my buskins, and, getting upon my back, kicked upon the stave with all my might, using my heels as a trip-hammer. It was a stiff job; for the piece, being jointed into the others on both sides, refused for a long time to yield. But the constant hammering at length loosened it, by breaking off one of the joinings, and I had the satisfaction to find that it was giving way. A few more strong finis.h.i.+ng blows did the business, and the stave was at length forced inward.

The immediate result was a gush of brandy that completely overwhelmed me. It rushed over me, not in a jet but in a grand volume as thick as my body; and before I could raise myself into an erect position, it was all over and around me, so that I had a fear I was going to be drowned in it! The whole s.p.a.ce I occupied was filled up, and it was only by holding my head close up to the s.h.i.+p's timbers that I could keep my mouth clear of being filled. At the first gush, a quant.i.ty had got into my throat, and eyes as well, and well-nigh choked and blinded me; and it was some time before I got over the fit of coughing and sneezing which it had suddenly brought on.

I was in no mood to be merry at the time; yet strange enough, I could not help thinking of the Duke of Clarence and his odd fancy of being drowned in the b.u.t.t of malmsey.

The singular flood subsided almost as rapidly as it had risen. There was plenty of s.p.a.ce for it down below; and in a few seconds' time it had all gone down to mix among the bilge-water, and jabble about during the remainder of the voyage. The only traces it had left were in my wet clothes, and the strong alcoholic smell that filled the atmosphere around me, and almost hindered me from getting breath.

As the s.h.i.+p's head rose upon the waves, the cask was tilted upwards, and this movement in ten minutes emptied it so completely that not a single pint remained inside.

But I had not waited for this. The stave I had kicked out left an aperture large enough to admit my body--it did not need to be very large for that--and as soon as my coughing fit had ended, I squeezed myself through to the inside of the cask.

I groped around for the bung, believing that this would be the best place to cut across one of the staves. The hole, usually a large one, would admit the blade of my knife, and would be so much of my work done to hand. I found the place easily enough, and fortunately it was not on the top, where I fancied it might be, but on the side, and just at a convenient height. Closing the blade of my knife, I hammered on the wooden plug with the half. After a few strokes, I succeeded in forcing it outwards, and then set to work to make the cross-cut of the stave.

I had not made a dozen notches, before I felt my strength wonderfully increased. I had been weak before, but now it appeared to me as if I could push out the staves without cutting them. I felt in a measure cheerful, as if I had been merely working for the play of the thing, and it was of but little consequence whether I succeeded or not. I have some recollection that I both whistled and sang as I worked. The idea that I was in any danger of losing my life quite forsook me, and all the hards.h.i.+ps through which I had been pa.s.sing appeared to have been only imaginary--a chimera of my brain, or, at most, only a dream.

Just then I was seized with a terrible fit of thirst, and I remember making a struggle to get out of the brandy-cask for the purpose of having a drink from the water-b.u.t.t. I must have succeeded in getting out of the cask, but whether I actually did drink at the time, I could never be certain; for after that I remembered nothing more, but was for a long while as completely unconscious as if I had been dead!

CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

A NEW DANGER.

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 s.p.a.ce, 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+p 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 pa.s.sed into my mouth--a drop, or maybe a spoonful, had gone down my throat when the torrent gushed over me; but surely this small quant.i.ty 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.