her, but miscellaneously--just as
the different packages may fit to the shape of the hold and to each
other. I had proof that this was the usual arrangement, since around
me, and in juxta-position, were articles of very different kinds--
biscuits, broadcloth, brandy, and the butt of water. Although there was
no second box of biscuits immediately adjoining the one already emptied,
there might be another _not far off_--perhaps just on the other side of
the cloth-box, or in some place where I might be able to _get at it_.

This, then, was the thought that inspired me with new hope.

As soon as I had conceived it, all my energies returned, and I set about
reflecting on what course I should take to ascertain whether there was
another biscuit-box that it was possible for me to reach.

The plan of reaching it was already shaped out in my mind. In fact,
there was but one way--with my knife. No other means were within my
reach, and therefore I thought of none. To cut a way with my knife
through such packages--boxes, bales, or barrels--as might lie between my
chamber and the desired biscuits, was the idea that had entered my mind,
and it seemed more feasible and practicable the longer I reflected upon
it. Deeds that would appear difficult, if not impossible, under
ordinary circumstances, present a different aspect to one whose life is
in danger, and who knows it may be saved by accomplishing them. The
direst hardships, and severest privations, become light trials when life
and death are on the issue.

It was from this point of view that I was compelled to contemplate the
feat I now intended to perform; and I thought but lightly of the time
and trouble, so long as there was a prospect of their saving me from
horrid death by starvation.

I resolved, therefore, to hew a way with my knife among the packages of
merchandise, in hopes of coming to one that contained food. If
successful, then I should live; if not, I must die. Another thought had
some effect in encouraging me to the attempt. It would be better for me
to pass my time still hoping, than to yield to despair and remain idle.
To live for two weeks in the certain anticipation of death, would have
been a thousand times more painful than death itself.

Far better to struggle on, nourishing hope with the exertions I should
be making for my safety. The very labour itself would help me to pass
the time, and hinder me from brooding too keenly on my doubtful fate.