JANUARY 17.—As a natural consequence of the alleviation¹ of our thirst, the pangs² 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 swarming³ 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 plunging⁴ into the sea, or by gnawing⁵ at a piece of metal, we could always, or at least often, do something that cheated us into believing that we were mitigating⁶ the pains of thirst; but with hunger it was different. The prospect⁷, too, of rain seemed hopeful, while for getting food there appeared no chance; and, as we knew that nothing could compensate⁸ 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 longing⁹; and I need hardly explain to what a degree of savageness¹⁰ 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 trifling¹¹ 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.
 
My brain is haunted by most horrible nightmares; not that I suppose I am in anyway more distressed¹² than my companions, who are lying in their usual places, vainly endeavoring to forget their sufferings in sleep.
 
After a time I fell into a restless, dreamy doze¹³. I was neither asleep nor awake. How long I remained in that state of stupor¹⁴ I could hardly say, but at length a strange sensation brought me to myself. Was I dreaming, or was there not really some unaccustomed odor floating in the air? My nostrils¹⁵ became distended¹⁶, and I could scarcely suppress a cry of astonishment¹⁷; but some instinct kept me quiet, and I laid myself down again with the puzzled sensation sometimes experienced when we have forgotten a word or name. Only a few minutes, however, had elapsed before another still more savory¹⁸ puff¹⁹ induced me to take several long inhalations. Suddenly, the truth seemed to flash across my mind. "Surely," I muttered to myself, "this must be cooked meat that I can smell."
 
Again and again I sniffed²⁰, and became more convinced than ever that my senses were not deceiving me. But from what part of the raft could the smell proceed? I rose to my knees,............