JANUARY 9 and 10.—On the 9th the wind dropped, and there was a dead calm; not a ripple1 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 stationary2.
The heat was intolerable; our thirst more intolerable still; and now it was that for the first time I fully3 realized how the insufficiency of drink could cause torture more unendurable than the pangs4 of hunger. Mouth, throat, pharynx, all alike were parched5 and dry, every gland6 becoming hard as horn under the action of the hot air we breathed. At my urgent solicitation7, the captain was for once induced to double our allowance of water; and this relaxation8 of the ordinary rule enabled us to attempt to slake9 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 perfectly10 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 scorches11 like fire. The torments12 of famine are all forgotten; our thoughts are concentrated with fevered expectation upon the longed-for moment when Curtis shall dole13 out the scanty14 measure of lukewarm water that makes up our ration15. Oh for one good draught16, 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 writhing17 in the most horrible convulsions. I went toward 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 erect18. It was quite true that in the direction indicated by Flaypole there was a white speck19 visible upon the horizon. But did it move? Would the sailors with their keen vision pronounce it to be a sail? A silence the most profound fell upon us all. I glanced at Curtis as he stood with folded arms intently gazing at the distant point. His brow was furrowed20, and he contracted every feature, as with half-closed eyes he............