The Boy Tar

by Mayne Reid

Those dark, silent hours were hard to endure. It was only at intervals that I was cheered by the presentiment I have described; but in the far longer intervals between, I felt gloomy and despairing.

Nearly twelve hours must have passed before I ate my second half biscuit. I waited as long as I could, but at length I was obliged to yield to the calls of hunger. The little morsel produced no satisfaction. It rather appeared to render my appetite more keen and craving. I drank copiously, but although the water filled my stomach, it had no effect in stifling the sensations of hunger.

In about six hours after, I made another meal—another half biscuit gone. I could not endure longer; and when the tiny crumb was swallowed, I knew not that I had eaten. I was as hungry as ever!

Scarce three hours was the next interval. My brave resolution to make the two biscuits last for as many days was to no purpose. Not one day had passed, and the last morsel had disappeared.

What next? What should I eat next? I was as hungry as ever.

I thought of my shoes. I had read of men sustaining themselves for a time by chewing up their boots, their belts, their gaiters, their pouches and saddles; in short, anything that was made of leather. Leather is an animal substance, and, even when tanned and manufactured, still possesses nutriment, though only in a slight degree. With these memories, then, I thought of my shoes.

I was stooping down to unlace them, when I was startled by something cold that struck me upon the back of the head. It was a stream of water. The rag of fustian had been pressed out, and the water was escaping. The jet had fallen on the back of my head, just upon the bare part of the neck, and its coldness, together with the suddenness of the thing, caused me to start up in some surprise.

Of course, my astonishment ceased as soon as I perceived what it was that had startled me.

I placed my finger in the aperture, and groping about for the rag, soon found it, and recaulked the cask.

This had now happened more than once, and much water had been wasted. The rag had become loosened by the action of the water, and was pressed out. It occurred to me that it might occur again while I was asleep, and most of the water in the butt might run off, and thus get lost altogether. Some precaution, therefore, must be taken—I must find a better stopper.