He informed the first lieutenant, who placed a watch in the neighbourhood where the ghost had appeared. The next night, in bodily form, the ghost of Sam Smitch was captured, dirtier than ever, but yet fat and sleek, though rather pallid. Not, however, till he was brought on deck, to be well scrubbed under the superintendence of the master at arms, were the crew convinced that the ghost was no ghost at all, but that dirty Sam, fool as he was, had been bamboozling them effectually, while he enjoyed his ease and plenty to eat below with nothing to do.
It is curious that this yarn should have occurred to me, but I suppose it did so from my case being somewhat similar to that of Sam Smitch, only he had voluntarily stowed himself away and had plenty to eat, while I was shut up against my will without a particle of food, except the buns I had in my pockets. It served also to draw me for a few minutes from the thoughts of my own misfortunes. The exertion of shouting increased the thirst I had already begun to feel. I was at the same time very hungry, but when I again tried to eat a piece of my remaining bun I could not get down the mouthful. I became rapidly more and more thirsty. The sea-sickness had worn off, but I felt more thoroughly uncomfortable in my inside than I had ever before done in my life. If any of my readers have at any time suffered from thirst, they will understand my sensations better than I can describe them. My mouth and throat felt like a dust-bin, and my tongue like the end of a burnt stick. I moved my mouth about in every possible way to try and produce some saliva, but so dry were my lips that they only cracked in the attempt.
I had scarcely hitherto believed that I should die, but now so terrible were my sensations that I didn’t expect to live many hours unless I should be released. I thought over my past life. The numberless wrong and foolish things I had done came back to my recollection, while not a single good deed of any sort occurred to me. I thought of how often I had vexed my father and mother, how impudent I had been to Aunt Deb, how frequently unkind and disagreeable to my brothers and sisters. I tried to be very sorry for everything, but all the time I was conscious that I was not as sorry as I ought to have been.
Exhausted by my efforts as well as by my hunger and thirst, I lay stretched upon the kelson till I had, I suppose, somewhat recovered. Once more I said to myself, “It will not do to give in; out of this I must get.” I managed again to get on my feet, feeling about in all directions. As I was doing so my hands touched what appeared to me like the side of a large cask. I was certain of it. I could make out the hoops which went round the cask, and the intervening spaces. Suddenly it occurred to me that it was one of the water-casks of the ship stowed in the lower tier. I put my ear to it, and as the ship rolled I could hear the water move about. I felt, however, very much like the fellow I had read about at school, who was placed when dying of thirst in the midst of water which remained up to his chin, but into which he could never get his mouth. Here was the water, but how I was to reach it was the question.
I felt about in the hope that some moisture might be coming through; even a few drops would help to cool my parched tongue, though I could have drunk a gallon without stopping, but the cask was strong and perfectly dry outside. I considered whether it would be possible to knock a hole in the cask, but I had no instrument for the purpose, and should not have had strength to use it even if I had found it. It was indeed tantalising to hear the water washing to and fro, and yet not be able to obtain a drop. By chance I happened to put my hands in my pockets, which always contained a knife, bits of string, and all sorts of things. Suddenly I recollected that I had been making a stand for my cutter before she was stolen, and that I had had a gimlet to bore holes in the wood. To my joy I found that I had fixed a cork on the end of it and had thrust it into my pocket. There it was. I might, by boring a hole in the cask, reach the water. How anxiously I clutched the gimlet. How fearful I was that in attempting to bore a hole I might break it. Feeling as far as I could judge for the centre of the cask, I began boring a hole, using the greatest care. At length the gimlet went right through. As I drew it forth I put it to my mouth. It was wet. How deliciously cool it felt. I then applied my mouth to the hole, but bitter was my disappointment when no water came out. I sucked and sucked at the hole, and then I blew into it, but with no satisfactory result.
I was again almost driven to despair. I tried the hole with the gimlet. It passed through it, and the iron was again wet. “What a fool!” I exclaimed, just then recollecting that to get liquor out of a cask two holes are necessary, the one to serve as a vent-hole to let in the air and the other to let out the liquid. I accordingly set to work and began boring a hole as high as I could reach above the former one. I soon accomplished my task, and as the air rushed in the water from the lower hole rushed out. I eagerly applied my mouth to it and sucked and sucked away until I was almost choked. Still I didn’t feel as if I had had enough.
How delicious was the sensation as it wetted my lips, moistened my mouth, and flowed down my parched throat. I felt very much like a pitcher being filled at a fountain. The hole was small, so that only a thin stream came out. It was fortunate for me that it was no larger, or I believe that I should have killed myself by over-drinking. Not until I had withdrawn my mouth did I recollect that I must find some means of stopping the flow of water. Feeling in my pocket, I found some pieces of wood, one of which I thought I could form into a plug. In doing so I nearly cut my fingers.
After a time I succeeded, and shutting up my knife, I knocked the plug I had made in with the handle. The vent-hole was not so important to stop, so I let it alone. I was now able to eat my remaining bun, though I recollected that it was the last article of food I possessed. I afterwards took another pull at the water-cask. I had no longer any fear of suffering from thirst, which was some comfort, but I had serious apprehensions about the means of obtaining food, should I fail to make my escape from my prison. I was, however, wonderfully hopeful. I remembered how I had fed myself on the musty flour in the old mill. I kept up my spirits, in the hopes of finding something to eat among the cargo. I was aware that few edibles were exported from England, our teeming population consuming the whole produce of the country, and as much more as they can get.
I could not tell all this time whether it was night or day, as I had no means of calculating how long I had been in the ship’s hold. Had I been told that a week or more had passed, I should not have been surprised, the time appeared to me so long. I now began to feel excessively sleepy, and creeping about until I discovered where the planks, if not soft, were less rough than in other parts, I lay down, and in a few seconds was fast asleep.