“Dear papa, I couldn’t help it,” sobbed the child; “indeed I couldn’t—and you need not give me any. I can do without it to-day.”
“Can you? But you shan’t,” exclaimed Glynn, with a degree of energy that would have made every one laugh in happier times.
“No, no, my own pet,” replied the captain. “You shan’t want it. Here, you must drink it, come.”
From that day Jacko received his allowance regularly as long as a drop of water was left, and no one again murmured against it. When it was finished he had to suffer with the rest.
The calm which had set in proved to be of longer duration than usual, and the sufferings of the crew of the little boat became extreme. On the third day after its commencement the last drop of water was served out. It amounted to a couple of teaspoonfuls per man each meal, of which there were three a day. During the continuance of the calm, the sun shone in an almost cloudless sky and beat down upon the heads of the men until it drove them nearly mad. They all looked like living skeletons, and their eyes glared from their sunken sockets with a dry fiery lustre that was absolutely terrible to behold. Had each one in that boat possessed millions of gold he would have given all, gladly, for one drop of fresh water; but, alas! nothing could purchase water there. Ailie thought upon the man who, in the Bible, is described as looking up to heaven from the depths of hell and crying for one drop of water to cool his tongue, and she fancied that she could now realise his agony. The captain looked up into the hot sky, but no blessed cloud appeared there to raise the shadow of a hope. He looked down at the sea, and it seemed to mock him with its clear blue depths, which looked so sweet and pleasant. He realised the full significance of that couplet in Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner—
“Water, water, everywhere,
But not a drop to drink.”
and, drawing Ailie to his breast, he laid his cheek upon hers and groaned aloud.
“We shall soon be taken away, dear papa!” she said—and she tried to weep, but the tears that came unbidden and so easily at other times to her bright blue eyes refused to flow now.
The men had one by one ceased to ply their useless oars, and the captain did not take notice of it, for he felt that unless God sent relief in some almost miraculous way, their continuing to row would be of no avail. It would only increase their agony without advancing them more than a few miles on the long, long voyage that he knew still lay before them.
“O God, grant us a breeze!” cried Mr Millons, in a deep, tremulous tone breaking a silence that had continued for some hours.