As I continued to reflect--that is, as I grew more _sober_--the mystery was cleared up, and I discovered the cause of my intoxication. It was not brandy, but the "fumes" of brandy, that had done it--this, and nothing else.

Even before entering the cask, I had noticed a decided change in my feelings, for the fumes of the liquor, even outside, were strong enough to make me sneeze; but this was nothing to the effluvia which I encountered inside the vessel. At first I could scarcely breathe, but by little and little I became accustomed to it, and rather liked it. No wonder, since it was making me feel so strong and happy!

On cogitating further on this singular incident, I remembered how I came to be outside the cask--how thirst had influenced me to come out; and I now perceived how fortunate it was that I had followed the guidance of this appet.i.te. I have said that I did not know whether I had actually quenched my thirst. I had no remembrance of going to the b.u.t.t, or of drawing a cup of water. I think I did not get so far. Had I done so, in all probability I should have left out the vent-peg, and then a large quant.i.ty of water would have been spilled. The water-line would have been down to a level with the vent; and this, on examination, I gladly perceived was not the case. Moreover, my drinking-cup felt too dry to have been used lately. I had not drunk, then, and this was a fortunate circ.u.mstance, though far more fortunate was the circ.u.mstance that I had thirsted. Had it not been for this, I should no doubt have remained inside the cask, and the consequence must have been disastrous indeed.

I cannot say what, but certainly some fatal result would have followed.

In all likelihood, I should have remained in a state of intoxication-- how was I ever to get sober?--every moment getting worse, until when?

Until death! Who knows?

A mere accidental circ.u.mstance, then, had once more saved my life; but perhaps it was not accidental. It may have been the hand of Providence, and I believed so at the time. If prayers express grat.i.tude, mine were given, and with all the fervour of my soul.

Whether I had allayed my thirst or not, certain it was that the quenching had been but temporary; for I now felt as if I could drink the b.u.t.t dry. I lost no time in groping for my cup, and I am sure I did not leave off till I had drunk nearly half a gallon of water.

The water removed a good deal of the sickness, and also cleared my brains, as if it had washed them. Being once more restored to my proper senses, I returned to the consideration of the perils by which I was surrounded.

My first thought was about continuing the work I had so abruptly left off, and only now did it occur to me that I might not be able to go on with it. What if I was to get into the same state as before--what if my senses again became stupefied, and I should not have presence of mind or resolution to come out of the cask?

Perhaps I might labour away for awhile without getting into the same state, and if I felt it coming on me I could hasten out? Perhaps! But should it be otherwise? If the intoxication should come suddenly upon me, how then? How long had it been before I felt it on the former occasion? I tried to remember, but could not.

I remembered how this strange influence had stolen over me--how soothingly and sweetly it came, wrapping my senses as if in a delightful dream. How it had made me reckless of consequences, forgetful even of my appalling situation!

Supposing that all was to be repeated--the same scene to be enacted over again--and only one incident to be left out: that is, the thirst which brought me forth from the cask--supposing all this? And why might it not be just what would take place? I could not answer the question one way or the other; but so strong were my apprehensions of the probability that it might, that I hesitated _to re-enter the cask_!

There was no help for it, however. I must either do so, or die where I lay. If death in the end was to be my fate, better far, thought I, to die by this apparently easy mode; for I felt convinced, from the experience I had had, that such death would be without a pang.

The reflection emboldened me, as well as the knowledge that I had no alternative, no choice of plan; and again p.r.o.nouncing a prayer, I crawled back into the brandy-cask.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

WHERE WAS MY KNIFE?

On entering, I groped about for my knife. I had quite forgotten how or where I had laid it down. I had already searched for it outside, but without success; and I concluded that I must have left it behind me in the cask. I was surprised at not laying my hand upon it at once, for although I ran my fingers all around the under-side of the vessel, nothing like a knife did I touch.

I was beginning to feel alarmed about it. It might be lost, and if so, all hopes of deliverance would be at an end. Without the knife, I could proceed no farther in any direction, but might lie down inactive to abide my fate. Where could the knife be? Was it likely that the rats had carried it off?

I again backed out of the cask, and made a new search outside; but not finding what I was looking for, I once more crept into the barrel, and once more felt it all over--that is, every part of it where a knife could lie.

I was very near going out again, when it occurred to me to raise my hands a little higher, and examine the bung-hole, at which I had been working when I last had the knife in my hands. It may be there, thought I; and to my joy it _was_ there, sticking in the notch I had been cutting with it.

I set to work, without further delay, to widen the hole crossways; but the blade, from so much use, had become "dull as a beetle," and my progress through the hard oaken stave was as slow as if I had been cutting through a stone. I carved away for a quarter of an hour, without making the notch the eighth part of an inch deeper; and I almost despaired of ever getting through the stave.

I now felt the singular influence again coming over me, and could have remained without much fear, for such is the effect of intoxication; but I had promised myself that the moment I became aware of any change, I should retreat from the dangerous spot. Fortunately, I had resolution, and barely enough, to keep my promise; and, before it was too late, I dragged myself back to the rear of the water-b.u.t.t.

It was well I did so at the very time, for had I remained in the brandy-cask but ten minutes longer, beyond doubt I should have been hopelessly insensible. As it was, I already felt quite "happy," and remained so for some time.

But as the alcoholic influence departed, I grew more miserable than ever; for I now perceived that this unexpected obstacle to my progress was about to ruin all my hopes. I believed that I could return at intervals, and go on with the work; but only at long intervals, and now that the blade of my knife had grown so blunt, I could make but little progress. It would be days before I should get through the side of the cask; and days were denied me. The small store of crumbs were sadly reduced; in fact, I was on my last handful. I had not enough to keep me alive for three days! The chances of saving my life were growing narrower with every fresh move, and I was fast giving way to despair.

Had I been sure that after cutting through the cask, I should have found relief on the other side, I might have contemplated the enterprise with more eagerness and energy; but this was worse than doubtful. There were ten chances to one against my finding a box of biscuits, or anything that was eatable.

One advantage had arisen from my breaking into the brandy-cask, which now occurred to me in full force. It had given me a large empty s.p.a.ce; and therefore, if I could only get beyond--even though there should not be a package containing food--still it might be something which I could remove into the inside of the cask, and thus make way for further operations.

This was certainly a fresh phase which my situation had a.s.sumed; but a still better idea succeeded, that lent a new and joyous aspect to my thoughts. It was this: if I could so easily cut my way from box to box, as I had already proved, _why might I not tunnel upwards, and reach the deck_?

The thought startled me. It was quite new. It had not occurred to me before--strangely enough it had not--and I can only explain its tardy conception by the fact of the confused state of mind in which I had all along been, and which might have led me to deem such an enterprise an impossibility.

No doubt there were numberless packages heaped over me, one upon another. No doubt the hold was quite full of them, and I knew that I was near the bottom of all. I remembered, too--what had _puzzled_ me at the time--that the stowage had continued for a long time after I came aboard; that for two days and nights the work seemed to be going on, and therefore the whole cargo must have been placed above me. Still, withal, a dozen large boxes would reach to the top, or, maybe, not half so many would fill up to the deck. Allowing a day to the cutting through each one, I might be able to reach the top in about a week or ten days!

Though a joyful thought, it would have been far more welcome at an earlier period, but it now came accompanied by the wildest regrets.

Perhaps it had come too late to save me? Had I begun aright, when I had my full box of biscuits, I might easily have carried the plan into execution; but now, alas! scarce a morsel remained; and it seemed hopeless to attempt what I had conceived.

Still, I could not surrender up this alluring prospect of life and freedom; and, stifling all idle regrets, I gave my mind to its further consideration.

Time, of course, was now the important matter, and that which caused me the greatest anxiety. I feared that even before I could accomplish an opening on the farther side of the empty barrel, my food would be all consumed, and my strength quite exhausted. Perhaps I should die in the middle of my work--literally "in the breach."

While pondering thus, another new thought came uppermost in my mind. It was also a good idea, however horrid it may seem to those who do not hunger. But hunger and the dread of starvation have the effect of simplifying the choice of a man's appet.i.te, and under such circ.u.mstances the stomach ceases to be dainty.

Mine had long since lost all niceness; and was no longer squeamish as to the sort of food I might swallow. In fact, _I could have eaten anything that was eatable_. And now for the new idea.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

A GRAND RAT-TRAP.

For some time I have said nothing of the _rats_. Do not fancy, from this silence about them, that they had gone away and left me to myself!

They had done no such thing. They were around and about me, as brisk as ever, and as troublesome. Bolder they could not have been, unless they had positively a.s.sailed me; and no doubt such would have been the case, had I exposed myself to their attack.

But, whenever I moved, my first care had been to close them out, by means of walls, which I constructed with pieces of cloth, and thus only had I kept them at bay. Now and then, when I had pa.s.sed from place to place, I could hear and feel them all around me; and twice or three times had I been bitten by one or another. It was only by exercising extreme vigilance and caution, that I was enabled to keep them from attacking me.

This parenthesis will, no doubt, lead you to antic.i.p.ate what I am coming to, and enable you to guess what was the idea that had taken possession of my mind. It had occurred to me, then, that instead of letting the rats eat me, _I should eat them_. That was it exactly.

I felt no disgust at the thought of such food; nor would you, if placed in a situation similar to mine. On the contrary, I hailed the idea as a welcome one, since it promised to enable me to carry out my plan of cutting my way up to the deck--in other words, of _saving my life_.

Indeed, as soon as I had conceived it, I felt as if I was actually saved. It only remained to carry out the intention.

I knew there were many rats--too many, I had thought before--but now I cared not how plentiful they were. At all events, there were enough of them to "ration" me for a long while--I hoped long enough for my purpose. The question was, how should I capture them?

I could think of no other way but by feeling for them with my hands, and boldly grasping them, one at a time, and so squeezing the life out of them. I had already given my attention to trapping them, without success. I had, as you know, killed one, by the only ingenuity I could think of, and likely enough I might get one or two more in the same way, but it was just as likely I might not; or even if I succeeded in killing one or two, the rest might become shy of me, and then the supply would stop. Better, therefore, to consider some plan for capturing a large number of them at once, and so have a larder that would last me for ten or twelve days. Perhaps by that time I might be within reach of more palatable food. This would be wiser, as well as safer; and I remained for a long while considering how I should make a wholesale capture.

Necessity is the parent of invention; and I suppose, by the help of this, more than from any real genius I possessed for contriving, I at last succeeded in sketching out the plan of a rat-trap. It was certainly of the simplest kind, but I felt pretty sure it would be effective. I should make me a large bag out of the broadcloth, which I could easily do, by cutting a piece of the proper length, and sewing up the two sides with a string. Strings I had in plenty for the rolls of cloth had been tied with strong pieces of twine, and of course these were at hand. I should use the blade of my knife for a needle, and by the same instrument I should be enabled to reeve round the mouth of the bag a strong piece of the twine, to act as a draw-string.

I not only _should_ do all this, but _did_ it without further delay; for in less than an hour I had my bag (net, I called it) quite finished, draw-string rove around the mouth, and all complete for action.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

A WHOLESALE TAKE.