Chapter 46

CHAPTER XLVI.

JANUARY 17th.--As a natural consequence of the alleviation of our
thirst, the pangs of hunger returned more violently than ever.
Although we had no bait, and even if we had we could not use it
for want of a whirl, we could not help asking whether no possible
means could be devised for securing one out of the many sharks
that were still perpetually swarming about the raft. Armed with
knives, like the Indians in the pearl fisheries, was it not
practicable to attack the monsters in their own element? Curtis
expressed his willingness personally to make the attempt, but so
numerous were the sharks that we would not for one moment hear of
his risking his life in a venture of which the danger was as
great as the success was doubtful.

By plunging into the sea, or by gnawing at a piece of metal, we
could always, or at least often, do something that cheated us
into believing that we were mitigating the pains of thirst; but
with hunger it was different. The prospect, too, of rain seemed
hopeful, whilst for getting food there appeared no chance; and,
as we knew that nothing could compensate for the lack of
nutritive matter, we were soon all cast down again. Shocking to
confess, it would be untrue to deny that we surveyed each other
with the eye of an eager longing; and I need hardly explain to
what a degree of savageness the one idea that haunted us had
reduced our feelings.

Ever since the storm-cloud brought us the too transient shower
the sky has been tolerably clear, and although at that time the
wind had slightly freshened, it has since dropped, and the sail
hangs idly against our mast. Except for the trifling relief it
brings by modifying the temperature we care little now for any
breeze. Ignorant as we are as to what quarter of the Atlantic we
have been carried by the currents, it matters very little to us
from what direction the wind may blow if only it would bring, in
rain or dew, the moisture of which we are so dreadfully in need.

The moon was entering her last quarter, so that it was dark till
nearly midnight, and the stars were misty, not glowing with that
lustre which is so often characteristic of cool nights. Half
frantic with that sense of hunger which invariably returns with
redoubled vigour at the close of every day, I threw myself, in a
kind of frenzy, upon a bundle of sails that was lying on the
starboard of the raft, and leaning over, I tried to get some
measure of relief by inhaling the moist coolness that rarely
fails to circulate just above the water. My brain was haunted by
the most horrible nightmares; not that I suppose I was in any way
more distressed than my companions, who were lying in their usual
places, vainly endeavouring to forget