CHAPTER XVIII.
ILL-OMENED SOUNDS.
With the sun fairly up, my strength had to some degree returned. I was still feeble as a child, but able to stand upon my feet.
My first care was to quench my thirst. It is always so with those severely wounded, especially where there has been much loss of blood.
Though near me there was water sufficient to have surfeited the whole human race, I had some difficulty in drinking of it. It was only accessible by means of the sloping tree-trunk. I succeeded in crawling down this, and satisfying the appetite that distressed me.
Returning to the bank, I bethought me of the next move to be made: which of course was, how I should get off the island. I did not spend much time in speculating about this. My eagle-shooting excursion was still fresh in my remembrance, and along with it the lagoon to which it had led me in the chase of the wounded bird, with the old dug-out I had seen under the cypress.
"How fortunate," I thought, "there is such a chance of getting off! Otherwise I might remain on this island heaven knows how long. It might be days before any boat would come past, near enough to be hailed, and with nothing to eat."
So ran my reflections as I gathered up my cloak, now nearly dry, slung it, scarf-like over my shoulder, and with a staggering step set forth in the direction of the dug-out.
My course was far from being direct; I had but a slight recollection of my former traces, which, of themselves, had been sufficiently eccentric. I was again going by guess, and now slowly, faint, and tottering in my steps.