Boy Tar

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

  A CASK OF BRANDY.

  Yes, biscuits--each of them as large as a small plate, and nearly halfan inch in thickness, smooth and round and pleasant to the touch, and ofa rich brown colour--I could tell the colour, for I knew from the feelthat they were real _sea_ biscuits; or, as they are generally styled,"sailor's biscuits," to distinguish them from the white "captain'sbiscuits," to which, in my opinion, they are superior--far sweeter andmore wholesome.

  How sweet they tasted at that moment! for on the very instant that I gothold of them, did I raise one to my mouth, and bite a large piece out ofits smooth circumference. Delicious morsel! a whole one was soon groundinto crumbs and swallowed, and then a second, and a third, and a fourth,and a fifth, and perhaps still another! for I never thought of keepingcount, so long as hunger urged me to eat. Of course, I washed them downwith copious libations from the butt.

  I remember no meal eaten during all my life that I enjoyed with so muchrelish, as this one of biscuits and water. It was not simply from thedelight experienced by satisfying the cravings of a hungry stomach--which of itself, as every one knows, is a high source of enjoyment--butalong with it, was the pleasure derived from my discovery--thedelightful consciousness, still fresh before my mind, that my life whichbut the moment before I held as lost, was still to be spared me. Beyonda question, the hand of Providence _had_ interposed to save my life.

  I had no doubt that this was so. With such store both of food anddrink, I could live, despite the darkness of my dungeon, for weeks, formonths--until the voyage should come to an end, and the ship be emptiedof its cargo.

  I felt sure of safety, as I made an inspection of my provision chest.They came pouring forth, those precious cakes, spilling out at thetouch, and cracking together like castanets.

  Their rattle was music to my ears. I thrust my hands into the box,delighting to bury my fingers amid the rich profusion of its contents;as the miser joys to revel among his heaps of gold. I thought I shouldnever tire groping among them, feeling how thick and large they were,and drawing them out from the box, and putting them back into it, andtumbling them about in every way. I acted just like a child with itsdrum and its ball, its top and its orange, rolling them from side toside; and it was a long time before I grew tired of this childlike play.

  Long--I am sure I must have gone on in this way for nearly an hour,before the excitement into which the discovery had put me cooled down,and I could act and think calmly.

  It is difficult to describe the sensation one feels, when suddenlyrescued from the jaws of death. Escape from an impending danger isdifferent, as one is not certain that the danger would end in death; forthere are few kinds of peril that produce the conviction that death mustbe the event. When this conviction once enters the mind, and after thatthe self-expecting victim survives, the sudden reaction from despair tojoy is a feeling of such intense happiness, as almost to causebewilderment. Men ere now have died of such joy, while others have gonemad.

  I neither died nor went mad; but could my behaviour have been observedfor some time after breaking open the biscuit-box, it might have been_supposed_ that I was mad.

  The first thing that restored me to calmer reflection, was the discoverythat the water was running from the cask, in a full jet. The aperturewas quite open. I was chagrined at making this observation--I may say,terrified. I knew not how long the waste had been going on; the _sough_of the sea outside prevented me from hearing it, and the water, as soonas it fell, filtered off under the timbers of the vessel. Perhaps ithad been running ever since I last drank; for I had no recollection ofhaving put back the rag stopper. My excitement had hindered me fromthinking of it. If that were really the case, then there had been muchwaste, and the thought filled me with dismay.

  But an hour ago, I should have not so much regarded this loss of water.Then I knew there would still be drink enough to outlast the food--tolast as long as I expected to live. Now, however, my altered prospectscaused me to regard the circumstance with very different ideas. I mightbe months alive, and still cooped up behind the cask. Every drop of itscontents might be required. If it was to run short before the shipreached her port, then I should be brought back to my original position,and death by thirst would be my fate after all. No wonder, I perceivedwith dismay that the stopper was out, and the stream was flowing!

  I lost not a moment in pressing my fingers into the hole, and cuttingoff the run. Then once more corking with the rag, I proceeded to carryout my original design, of making a proper vent-peg of wood.

  A piece was easily obtained from the board I had detached from the lidof the box--for it was the lid that was towards me; and the soft deal,yielding to the keen blade of my knife, was soon shaped into a conicalpeg, that fitted exactly.

  Brave sailor! how I blessed thee for thy gift!

  I blamed myself much for this piece of negligence; and I felt regret,too, that I had tapped the cask so low down. However, the latter hadbeen itself a measure of precaution; and at the time it was done, I hadbut one thought, and that was to allay my thirst as quickly as possible.

  It was fortunate I noticed the jet as soon as I did. Had it beenallowed to continue running, until it stopped of itself--in other words,had the surface of the water sunk to the level of the tap-hole--thenwould there have been but little left, scarce enough to have lasted mefor a week.

  I endeavoured to ascertain what had been the amount of wastage, but Icould arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. I sounded the cask, bystriking it in different places with the butt end of my knife, but Iderived little knowledge from this. The creaking of the ship's timbers,and the rush of the waves, prevented any observation of this kind frombeing definite or accurate. I fancied that the blows gave back a veryhollow sound, as if a large space within was empty. If it were a fancy,it was far from being a pleasant one; and I gave over my "soundings"with a considerable feeling of uneasiness. Fortunately the tap was avery small hole, and the jet from it of no great thickness. As near asI could tell by the touch, and from the repeated application I had madeto it with my lips, this could not have been over the thickness of mylittle finger, which at that time was not of much greater circumferencethan a goose's quill. I knew that such a tiny stream would be a longwhile in spending the contents of so large a tank; and I endeavoured torecall to mind how long it might have been since I last drank. In this,however, I was not successful. It seemed but a short while to me, butexcited as I had been, and confused in my ideas, it might have been anhour, or even more. I was completely baffled in any calculation that Iattempted.

  I remained for a considerable time, pondering upon some scheme by whichI might determine the quantity of water that still remained in the cask,for about this I was now most anxious. Only one hour before, food hadbeen the source of my uneasiness; before that it had been drink; and nowonce more drink was my trouble, for of meat I had a plenty.

  I remembered having heard that brewers, coopers, and others whosebusiness lies among the great wine vaults of the docks, had a way oftelling pretty nearly the contents of a barrel of liquid, withoutsubmitting them to actual measurement, but I had not heard how theymanaged the matter. I regretted not having been told.

  I thought of a plan by which I could have ascertained, to a nicety; butI lacked the proper instrument to put it in execution. I understoodenough of hydraulics to know that water will rise to its own level ifguided by a pipe or tube; I knew, therefore, that if I had onlypossessed a piece of hose, I could have attached it to the tap-hole, andthus discovered how high the water stood in the cask.

  But where was the hose or other pipe to be had? Of course I could notget at what I desired in this way, and I relinquished the idea withoutgiving it farther consideration.

  Just at this moment a better plan suggested itself, and I proceeded toput it in execution. It was so simple, I wondered I had not thought ofit before. It was neither more nor less than to cut another holethrough the staves, higher up, and if need be a
nother, and so on, untilI reached a point where the water ceased to run. This would give me theknowledge I wanted.

  Should I make my first hole too low, I could easily stop it with a peg,and so with all the others.

  It is true that I was laying out for myself a considerable amount ofwork, but I rather liked this than otherwise. While employed, I shouldfeel much happier, as my occupation would enable me the better to passthe time, and keep me from thinking too much of my miserable situation.

  But just as I was about to commence my experiments on the butt, itoccurred to me that I had better try the other one--that which stood atthe end of my little chamber. Should this also prove to be awater-cask, then I need be no longer uneasy, for surely two such greatvessels should contain enough to supply me during the longest voyagethat ever was made.

  Without more ado, then, I turned upon the second cask, and commenceddrilling a hole in the end of it. I was not so excited as before, for Idid not feel that so much depended upon the result. For all that, itcaused me a good deal of disappointment, when, on getting the point ofmy blade through to the inside, I discovered that the stream that camejetting out was not water but pure brandy, which proved that it was abrandy-cask I had tapped.

  I again turned my attention to the water-butt; for I was now moreanxious than ever to ascertain how much it contained, since on thisdepended my future safety.

  Choosing a stave near the middle of the cask, I proceeded in the samemanner as I had done when making my first incision; and workingconstantly for an hour or more, I felt the thin shell springing beforethe point of my knife. My apprehensions were acute, though not so muchas on the former occasion. Then it was a matter of life or death,almost upon the instant; now the contingency was more remote, and notquite so definite or certain. Withal I could not help a strong feelingof anxiety, nor could I avoid uttering an exclamation of delight, when Ifelt the cold spring of water gushing along the blade of my knife. Isoon closed the slight aperture, and re-commenced my drilling processupon the next stave higher up.

  This I also penetrated in due time, and was again rewarded for mypatient labour by getting my fingers wet, from the inside.

  Another step higher, with a result like.

  Another, and the water came not. No matter, I was now far up near thetop of the cask. I had found water at the last boring but one. It muststand still higher within. The cask, therefore, was more than threeparts full. Thank Heaven! There would be enough to last me for manymonths!

  I felt satisfied with the result, and, sitting down, I ate anotherbiscuit with as much relish and contentment as if I had been dining uponturtle and venison at the table of a Lord Mayor.