We were glad to shelter ourselves under the bulwark, where we all lay huddled up together; before noon, most of the poor fellows had forgotten their sufferings in a sound sleep. Cross, I, and the man with the broken arm, were the only three awake; the latter was in too much pain to find repose, and, moreover, suffered from extreme thirst.
A breeze now sprang up from the southward, which cheered our spirits, as without wind there was little chance of receiving any assistance. Night again came on, and the men still slept. Cross and I laid down, and were glad to follow their example: the night was cold, and when we lay down we did not yet feel much from hunger or thirst; but when the morning dawned we woke in suffering, not from hunger, but from thirst. Everybody cried out for water. I told the men that talking would only make them feel it more, and advised them to put their shirt sleeves in their mouths, and suck them; and then I climbed upon the bulwarks to see if there was anything in sight. I knew that the greatest chance was that the cutter would be looking after us; but, at the same time, it was not yet likely that she would come so near to the sands.
I had been an hour on the gunnel, when Cross came up to me. “It’s banking up, sir to the southward: I hope we are not going to have any more bad weather.”
“I have no fear of a gale, although we may have thick weather,” replied I; “that would be almost as bad for us, as we should perish on the wreck before we are discovered.”
“I am going to lower myself down into the galley, Captain Keene, to see if I can find anything.”
“I fear you will not be successful,” replied I, “for the coppers and ranges are all carried away.”
“I know that, sir; but I have been thinking of the cook’s closet we had built up above the bowsprit. I know that he used to stow away many things there, and perhaps there may be something. I believe the shortest way will be to go to leeward, and swim round to it.”
Cross then left me, and I continued to look out. About an hour afterwards he returned, and told me that he had easily opened it with his knife, and had found eight or nine pounds of raw potatoes, and a bucketful of slush. “We are not hungry enough to eat this now, sir; but there is enough to keep the life in us all for three or four days at least; that is, if we could get water, and I expect we shall feel the want of that dreadfully in a short time. I would give a great deal if I could only find a drop to give that poor fellow Anderson, with his broken arm; it is terribly swelled, and he must suffer very much.”
“Did you find anything in the closet to put water into, Cross; in case we should get any?”
“Yes; there’s two or three kids, and some small breakers, Captain Keene.”