The Boy Tar

by Mayne Reid

I remembered having heard that brewers, coopers, and others whose business lies among the great wine vaults of the docks, had a way of telling pretty nearly the contents of a barrel of liquid, without submitting them to actual measurement, but I had not heard how they managed the matter. I regretted not having been told.

I thought of a plan by which I could have ascertained, to a nicety; but I lacked the proper instrument to put it in execution. I understood enough of hydraulics to know that water will rise to its own level if guided by a pipe or tube; I knew, therefore, that if I had only possessed a piece of hose, I could have attached it to the tap-hole, and thus discovered how high the water stood in the cask.

But where was the hose or other pipe to be had? Of course I could not get at what I desired in this way, and I relinquished the idea without giving it farther consideration.

Just at this moment a better plan suggested itself, and I proceeded to put it in execution. It was so simple, I wondered I had not thought of it before. It was neither more nor less than to cut another hole through the staves, higher up, and if need be another, and so on, until I reached a point where the water ceased to run. This would give me the knowledge 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 of work, but I rather liked this than otherwise. While employed, I should feel much happier, as my occupation would enable me the better to pass the 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, it occurred to me that I had better try the other one—that which stood at the end of my little chamber. Should this also prove to be a water-cask, then I need be no longer uneasy, for surely two such great vessels should contain enough to supply me during the longest voyage that ever was made.

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

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

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