eling how thick and large they were,
and drawing them out from the box, and putting them back into it, and
tumbling them about in every way. I acted just like a child with its
drum and its ball, its top and its orange, rolling them from side to
side; and it was a long time before I grew tired of this childlike play.

Long--I am sure I must have gone on in this way for nearly an hour,
before the excitement into which the discovery had put me cooled down,
and I could act and think calmly.

It is difficult to describe the sensation one feels, when suddenly
rescued from the jaws of death. Escape from an impending danger is
different, as one is not certain that the danger would end in death; for
there are few kinds of peril that produce the conviction that death must
be the event. When this conviction once enters the mind, and after that
the self-expecting victim survives, the sudden reaction from despair to
joy is a feeling of such intense happiness, as almost to cause
bewilderment. Men ere now have died of such joy, while others have gone
mad.

I neither died nor went mad; but could my behaviour have been observed
for some time after breaking open the biscuit-box, it might have been
_supposed_ that I was mad.

The first thing that restored me to calmer reflection, was the discovery
that the water was running from the cask, in a full jet. The aperture
was quite open. I was chagrined at making this observation--I may say,
terrified. I knew not how long the waste had been going on; the _sough_
of the sea outside prevented me from hearing it, and the water, as soon
as it fell, filtered off under the timbers of the vessel. Perhaps it
had been running ever since I last drank; for I had no recollection of
having put back the rag stopper. My excitement had hindered me from
thinking of it. If that were really the case, then there had been much
waste, and the thought filled me with dismay.

But an hour ago, I should have not so much regarded this loss of water.
Then I knew there would still be drink enough to outlast the food--to
last as long as I expected to live. Now, however, my altered prospects
caused me to regard the circumstance with very different ideas. I might
be months alive, and still cooped up behind the cask. Every drop of its
contents might be required. If it was to run short before the ship
reached her port, then I should be brought back to my original position,
and death by thirst would be my fate