“Now, to my mind, Walter, both the wine and spirits are given to us as blessings; and what we have got to do is not to abuse them. If we had a disorderly crew, I would stave every spirit-cask on board sooner than let them get drunk. But our case is very different; and as neither you nor I are likely to take more than would be good for us, and having a wine-cask full, of the more precious liquid, I am sure we should be wrong in throwing away what may, under present circumstances, help to preserve our lives.”
All this time Walter and the mate had been kneeling with the sail, still half-full of water, between them. The rain had ceased. They looked affectionately at the precious fluid. It might be long before they could get any more. Once again they each dipped down their heads and took another long draught. The mate suddenly exclaimed,—“We will still make use of it. We will first bathe our heads and faces, and then wash our clothes, to get some of the salt out of them. It will make us feel more comfortable, and help to keep the scurvy at bay. At present I feel like a Yarmouth bloater.”
Walter was greatly refreshed by his ablutions. He then thoroughly washed his shirt, and wringing it out, hung it up to dry. The old mate afterwards performed the same operation. At length they allowed the water to escape from the sail. Scarcely had they done so when, a light breeze springing up, they hoisted it and stood on to the westward. The raft made but slow progress; and though the voyagers no longer suffered from thirst, they could not help feeling anxious as they looked after each meal at the scanty supply of food which remained. The meat was almost exhausted, and scarcely half-a-dozen biscuits were left, while their piece of cheese had been reduced to very small dimensions.
“We have a bottle of oil,” said the mate, as he saw Walter gazing anxiously into the basket. “That will help to keep life in us; though train oil was never much to my fancy.”
“Nor to mine,” said Walter. “But our biscuits would prove more nutritious if we were to soak them in it; though I confess that I would rather eat them as they are.”
“We will try your plan,” said the mate; and accordingly, the next time he served out provisions, he broke up some biscuit into the cup, and poured a little oil upon it. Walter made a wry face as he took his share; but he ate it notwithstanding, owning that, although the taste was not pleasant, it seemed to go much further than dry biscuit itself. The mate being of opinion that there was no use in dying by inches, gave Walter rather more of the meat and cheese than perhaps was prudent—he taking a much less quantity himself.
Another day passed away, and the only food remaining were the biscuits, with the oil, which, nauseous as it tasted, was not to be despised. The calm continued. The old mate felt conscious that he himself was growing weaker and weaker, and he feared that poor Walter would begin to suffer even more severely before long. There was just wind enough to waft on the raft; but many days must pass before they could possibly reach land. Wine and water would help to sustain them, and they might even gnaw the leather of their shoes.
“Well, well,” thought the mate, “I won’t alarm the lad; and Heaven may send us aid when we least expect it.”