Boy Tar
Page 50
CHAPTER FIFTY.
WHERE WAS MY KNIFE?
On entering, I groped about for my knife. I had quite forgotten how orwhere I had laid it down. I had already searched for it outside, butwithout success; and I concluded that I must have left it behind me inthe cask. I was surprised at not laying my hand upon it at once, foralthough I ran my fingers all around the under-side of the vessel,nothing like a knife did I touch.
I was beginning to feel alarmed about it. It might be lost, and if so,all hopes of deliverance would be at an end. Without the knife, I couldproceed no farther in any direction, but might lie down inactive toabide my fate. Where could the knife be? Was it likely that the ratshad carried it off?
I again backed out of the cask, and made a new search outside; but notfinding what I was looking for, I once more crept into the barrel, andonce more felt it all over--that is, every part of it where a knifecould lie.
I was very near going out again, when it occurred to me to raise myhands a little higher, and examine the bung-hole, at which I had beenworking when I last had the knife in my hands. It may be there, thoughtI; and to my joy it _was_ there, sticking in the notch I had beencutting with it.
I set to work, without further delay, to widen the hole crossways; butthe blade, from so much use, had become "dull as a beetle," and myprogress through the hard oaken stave was as slow as if I had beencutting through a stone. I carved away for a quarter of an hour,without making the notch the eighth part of an inch deeper; and I almostdespaired of ever getting through the stave.
I now felt the singular influence again coming over me, and could haveremained without much fear, for such is the effect of intoxication; butI had promised myself that the moment I became aware of any change, Ishould retreat from the dangerous spot. Fortunately, I had resolution,and barely enough, to keep my promise; and, before it was too late, Idragged myself back to the rear of the water-butt.
It was well I did so at the very time, for had I remained in thebrandy-cask but ten minutes longer, beyond doubt I should have beenhopelessly insensible. As it was, I already felt quite "happy," andremained so for some time.
But as the alcoholic influence departed, I grew more miserable thanever; for I now perceived that this unexpected obstacle to my progresswas about to ruin all my hopes. I believed that I could return atintervals, and go on with the work; but only at long intervals, and nowthat the blade of my knife had grown so blunt, I could make but littleprogress. It would be days before I should get through the side of thecask; and days were denied me. The small store of crumbs were sadlyreduced; in fact, I was on my last handful. I had not enough to keep mealive for three days! The chances of saving my life were growingnarrower with every fresh move, and I was fast giving way to despair.Had I been sure that after cutting through the cask, I should have foundrelief on the other side, I might have contemplated the enterprise withmore eagerness and energy; but this was worse than doubtful. There wereten chances to one against my finding a box of biscuits, or anythingthat was eatable.
One advantage had arisen from my breaking into the brandy-cask, whichnow occurred to me in full force. It had given me a large empty space;and therefore, if I could only get beyond--even though there should notbe a package containing food--still it might be something which I couldremove into the inside of the cask, and thus make way for furtheroperations.
This was certainly a fresh phase which my situation had assumed; but astill better idea succeeded, that lent a new and joyous aspect to mythoughts. It was this: if I could so easily cut my way from box to box,as I had already proved, _why might I not tunnel upwards, and reach thedeck_?
The thought startled me. It was quite new. It had not occurred to mebefore--strangely enough it had not--and I can only explain its tardyconception by the fact of the confused state of mind in which I had allalong been, and which might have led me to deem such an enterprise animpossibility.
No doubt there were numberless packages heaped over me, one uponanother. No doubt the hold was quite full of them, and I knew that Iwas near the bottom of all. I remembered, too--what had _puzzled_ me atthe time--that the stowage had continued for a long time after I cameaboard; that for two days and nights the work seemed to be going on, andtherefore the whole cargo must have been placed above me. Still,withal, a dozen large boxes would reach to the top, or, maybe, not halfso many would fill up to the deck. Allowing a day to the cuttingthrough each one, I might be able to reach the top in about a week orten days!
Though a joyful thought, it would have been far more welcome at anearlier period, but it now came accompanied by the wildest regrets.Perhaps it had come too late to save me? Had I begun aright, when I hadmy full box of biscuits, I might easily have carried the plan intoexecution; but now, alas! scarce a morsel remained; and it seemedhopeless to attempt what I had conceived.
Still, I could not surrender up this alluring prospect of life andfreedom; and, stifling all idle regrets, I gave my mind to its furtherconsideration.
Time, of course, was now the important matter, and that which caused methe greatest anxiety. I feared that even before I could accomplish anopening on the farther side of the empty barrel, my food would be allconsumed, and my strength quite exhausted. Perhaps I should die in themiddle of my work--literally "in the breach."
While pondering thus, another new thought came uppermost in my mind. Itwas also a good idea, however horrid it may seem to those who do nothunger. But hunger and the dread of starvation have the effect ofsimplifying the choice of a man's appetite, and under such circumstancesthe stomach ceases to be dainty.
Mine had long since lost all niceness; and was no longer squeamish as tothe sort of food I might swallow. In fact, _I could have eaten anythingthat was eatable_. And now for the new idea.