Boy Tar

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

  THIRST.

  I slept neither very long, nor very soundly. My sleep was full ofdreams, all troubled and horrid; but not more horrid than the reality towhich I once more awoke.

  After awaking, it was some time before I could think of where I was; buton stretching out my arms, I was reminded of my situation: on every sidethe wooden walls of my prison were within reach, and I could touch themwith my fingers all around. I had little more than room sufficient toturn myself in. Small as was my body, another as big as myself wouldalmost have filled the space in which I was shut up.

  On again comprehending my fearful situation, I once more gave utteranceto loud cries, shouting and screaming at the very highest pitch of myvoice. I had not yet lost all hope that the sailors might hear me; for,as already stated, I knew not what quantity of merchandise might bestowed above me, nor did I think of the hatches of the lower deck beingfastened down.

  Perhaps it was as well I did not know the whole truth, else the completedespair which the knowledge must have produced might have driven me outof my senses. As it was, the intervals of despair already endured hadever alternated with glimpses of hope; and this had sustained me, untilI became more able to look my terrible fate in the face.

  I continued to cry out, sometimes for minutes at a time, and then onlynow and again, at intervals; but as no response came, the intervalsbetween my spells of shouting became longer and longer, till at length,resigning all hope of being heard, I allowed my hoarse voice to rest,and remained silent.

  For several hours after this, I lay in a sort of half stupor--that is,my mind was in this state, but unfortunately my body was not so. On thecontrary, I was racked with severe bodily pain--the pain of extremethirst--perhaps the most grievous and hardest to endure of all physicalsuffering. I never should have believed that one could be so torturedby so simple a thing as the want of a drink of water, and when I used toread of travellers in the desert, and shipwrecked mariners on the ocean,having endured such agonies from thirst, as even to die of it, I alwaysfancied there was exaggeration in the narrative. Like all English boys,brought up in a climate where there is plenty of moisture, and in acountry where springs or runlets exist within a few hundred yards of anygiven point, it is not likely I should ever have known thirst byexperience. Perhaps a little of it at times, when at play off in thefields, or by the sea-shore, where there was no fresh water. Then I hadfelt what we ordinarily call thirst--a somewhat unpleasant sensation inthe throat, which causes us to yearn for a glass of water. But thisunpleasantness is very trifling, and is almost neutralised by theanticipation we have of the pleasure to be experienced while allayingit; for this, we know, we shall be able to accomplish in a very shorttime. Indeed, so trifling is the annoyance we feel from ordinarythirst, that it is rare when we are compelled to stoop, either to theditch or the pond, for the purpose of assuaging it. We are daintyenough to wait, until we encounter a cool well or some limpid spring.

  This, however, is not thirst; it is but thirst in its first and mildeststage--rather pleasant from the knowledge you have of being able soon toremove the pain. Once take away this confidence--become assured that nowells nor springs are near--no ponds, ditches, lakes, nor rivers--thatno fresh water is within hundreds of miles of you--no fluid of any kindthat will allay the appetite, and then even this incipient feeling ofthirst would at once assume a new character, and become sufficientlypainful to endure.

  I may not have been so absolutely in need of drink at the time, for Ihad not been so long without it. I am sure I had often gone for dayswithout thinking of water, but this was just because I knew I might haveas much as I pleased at a moment's notice. Now, that there was none tobe had, and no prospect of obtaining any, I felt for the first time inmy life that thirst was a real agony.

  I was not again hungry. The provisions which I had purchased with theprice of my sloop were not yet exhausted. Some pieces of the cheese,and several of the biscuits, still remained, but I did not venture totouch them. They would only have increased my thirst. The last morselsI had eaten had produced this effect. My parched throat called only forwater--water at that moment appeared to me the most desirable thing inthe world.

  I was in a situation somewhat similar to that of Tantalus. Water I sawnot, but I heard it. The hoarse rushing of the waves as they tore alongthe sides of the ship was plainly audible. I knew it was the water ofthe sea--salt, and of no service to me, even could I have reached it--but still it was the sound of water playing continually on my ears as ifto mock and tantalise me.

  I need not recount the many painful reflections that passed through mymind during the period that followed. Suffice it to say, that for manylong hours I endured the terrible pain of thirst, without any hope ofbeing relieved from its torture. I felt certain it was going to killme. I knew not how soon, but I was sure that sooner or later it wouldcause my death. I had read of men living for days under the agony ofthirst, before life became extinct. I tried to remember how many daysthey had lived, but my memory was at fault. Six or seven, I fancied,was the longest period. The prospect was appalling. How could I endurefor six or seven days what I was then suffering? How could I bear itfor even one day longer? Oh! it was fearful to endure! I hoped thatdeath would sooner come, and release me from such torture!

  But a far brighter hope was nigh; and almost upon the instant that I hadgiven mental expression to that despairing wish, a sound fell upon myears that at once changed the current of my thoughts, and caused me toforget the horror of my situation.

  Oh! that sweet sound! It was like the whisper of an angel of mercy!