ve no water on which to support my life. Having made
this discovery, I crept back to my sleeping-place.

As I had no other means of drying my clothes, I took them off and wrung
them out, then wrapped myself in the sail, which being in a higher
position had only been slightly wetted by the splash of the water.
Unpleasant as my life was, this altogether was the most miserable period
of my existence in the hold of the "Emu." I thought that the storm
would never end. Hour after hour the ship went plunging and rolling on,
every timber shaking and quaking, my heart beating I must confess in
sympathy. Regrets were useless. My only consolation now was that
should the ship in the meantime not founder or be driven on the rocks,
this state of things must come to an end.

I tried to forget where I was and what was happening and to bring my
senses into a state of stupor. I would willingly have gone to sleep,
but that seemed impossible. I was mistaken, however. After some time,
in spite of the violent movements and the terrific uproar, I began to
doze off, and an oblivion of all things, past and present, came over me.
It was sent in mercy, for I do not think I could otherwise have endured
my sufferings. When I awoke to the present matters had not improved, so
I endeavoured, and successfully, to go to sleep again. This occurred
several times. At last, in spite of my painful feelings, I found that I
had become very hungry, and to my surprise my clothes, which I had hung
up against the bulkhead on some nails stuck in the upper part, were very
nearly dry. I put them on, unwilling to be without garments should I be
discovered. I had no rats in store, so intended to make my meal off
biscuits and olives. I put my hand down to where I had stowed them,
when what was my dismay not to be able to find either the cask of
biscuits or the jars of olives and pickles. I felt about in all
directions, hoping that I had made a mistake as to their position. I
was at length convinced that they had gone.

I then recollected that the chief volume of water out of the butt must
have washed them away. Still they could not be far off. I lay down on
the kelson and felt about with my hand on every side. My search for a
moment was in vain. At last I picked up an olive, and then another. My
fear was that the jar was broken. What if the pickles and biscuits had
shared the same fate? That this was the case was too probable, and if
so my stock