I think I lay for a time in a kind of lethargy, for I was perfectly
unconscious of anything that might be happening about me, and it seemed
to me that my mind was a total blank. Whether it was the heat of the
sun, which had mounted well-nigh to the zenith, or the pangs of hunger
that roused me, I know not; but when I did arise I was aware of a
prodigious aching in my inwards, which was very natural, seeing that I
had not eaten for sixteen or twenty hours. And then I discovered that
Billy had risen first; indeed he told me that he had not lain long,
being not near so much overcome as I was, his harder life having
indurated as well his feelings as his skin. When I beheld him he was a
hundred yards or more away, sitting on a low flat rock, and eating with
a great appearance of relish. Seeing me get to my feet, he called to
me to come and eat likewise, and when I reached his rock I found a
great array of shells beside him, some broke apart and empty, others
still closed up.
[Sidenote: Clams and Cocoa-nuts]
"They ain't bad, master," he said, for so he commonly called me, "but
they do make a body uncommon dry."
I was amazed, and indeed almost angry, because he seemed so
comfortable, not reflecting that after the dog's life he had led aboard
the _Lovey Susan_ his present posture was, at least, one of ease and
security, the mountain having done no harm as yet. My gorge rose when
I saw him take out the slimy inhabitants of the shells and eat them
raw; I had never eaten shell-fish at all, much less uncooked, and for
all my famishment my stomach refused this sort of food. The horror of
our situation smote upon my mind: here were we, little more than boys,
left on a strange shore with no food but what we could pick up, no
clothes but what we stood in--and they were but shirt and breeches, for
the coats we had used as a sail had been washed from the raft when the
great wave struck us--and no implements or tools of any kind, not so
much as a jack-knife. As yet we knew nothing of the land whereupon we
had been cast, though I guessed it must be an island, but whether large
or small, peopled or desolate, fertile or barren, all remained to be
discovered. The sum of our knowledge was that we were at the foot of a
burning mountain, and that was a very terrible thing to contemplate.
The thought of it drew me to look aloft at the summit, where there
still hung a cloud of steam, though not so large as before, and the
fire and smoke had ceased, but a stream of hot water was still flowing
down the side, yet not in a great volume.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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