Chapter 42

CHAPTER XLII.

JANUARY 9th and 10th.--On the 9th the wind dropped, and there was
a dead calm; not a ripple disturbed the surface of the long
undulations as they rose and fell beneath us; and if it were not
for the slight current which is carrying us we know not whither,
the raft would be absolutely stationary.

The heat was intolerable; our thirst more intolerable still; and
now it was that for the first time I fully realized how the
insufficiency of drink could cause torture more unendurable than
the pangs of hunger. Mouth, throat, pharynx, all alike were
parched and dry, every gland becoming hard as horn under the
action of the hot air we breathed. At my urgent solicitation the
captain was for once induced to double our allowance of water;
and this relaxation of the ordinary rule enabled us to attempt to
slake our thirst four times in the day, instead of only twice. I
use the word "attempt" advisedly; for the water at the bottom of
the barrel, though kept covered by a sail, became so warm that it
was perfectly flat and unrefreshing.

It was a most trying day, and the sailors relapsed into a
condition of deep despondency. The moon was nearly full, but
when she rose the breeze did not return. Continuance of high
temperature in daytime is a sure proof that we have been carried
far to the south, and here, on this illimitable ocean, we have
long ceased even to look for land; it might almost seem as though
this globe of ours had veritably become a liquid sphere!

To-day we are still becalmed, and the temperature is as high as
ever. The air is heated like a furnace, and the sun scorches
like fire. The torments of famine are all forgotten: our
thoughts are concentrated with fevered expectation upon the
longed-for moment when Curtis shall dole out the scanty measure
of lukewarm water that makes up our ration. O for one good
draught, even if it should exhaust the whole supply! At least,
it seems as if we then could die in peace!

About noon we were startled by sharp cries of agony, and looking
round I saw Owen writhing in the most horrible convulsions. I
went towards him, for, detestable as his conduct had been, common
humanity prompted me to see whether I could afford him any
relief. But before I reached him, a shout from Flaypole arrested
my attention.

The man was up in the mast, and with great excitement pointing to
the east.

"A ship! A ship!" he cried.

In an instant all were on their feet. Even Owen stopped his
cries and stood erect. It was quite true that in the direction
indicated by Flaypole there was a white speck visible upon the
horizon. But did it move? Would the sailors with their keen
vision pronounce it to be a sail? A silence the