Adventure stories; Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
A better plan suggested itself--apparently a better, but which in the
end proved a mistake. I managed the matter by cutting off the
fastenings of each piece, and, laying hold of the end of the web,
unrolled it. I then drew out the loose cloth until the web became small
enough to pass through. In this way I succeeded in emptying the case,
but the work kept me employed for several hours.
I was delayed, moreover, by a more serious interruption. On returning
to my chamber, with the first piece of cloth which I had drawn out of
the box, I found, to my consternation, that it was already occupied by
other tenants--a score of them: the rats were in possession!
I dropped the piece of cloth; and, dashing into their midst, succeeded
in routing them; but, as I had anticipated from their presence, I found
that another portion of my wretched store of provisions was eaten or
carried off. Not a great deal, however, appeared to have been taken.
Fortunately, I had been absent only for a short while. Had I been gone
for but another twenty minutes, the robbers would have quite cleared me
out, and left me not a crumb to live upon.
The consequence of this would have been fatal; and once more deploring
my negligence, I resolved to take better care for the future. I spread
out a large piece of the cloth, and depositing the fragments upon it, I
wrapped them up into a sort of bag-like bundle, which I tied as firmly
as I could with a strip of list torn from the cloth itself. This, I
fancied, would keep all safe; and placing it in a corner, I proceeded
with my work.
As I passed to and fro upon my hands and knees--now empty-handed, now
dragging with me a piece of the cloth--I might have been likened to an
ant crawling upon its track, and laying in its stores for the winter;
and during many hours I was kept as busy as an ant might be. The
weather still continued calm, but the atmosphere appeared hotter than I
had yet felt it, and the perspiration ran from every pore of my skin. I
was often obliged to use a loose piece of the broadcloth to wipe the
drops from my forehead and out of my eyes; and at times it appeared as
if the heat would suffocate me. But with such a motive as I had for
perseverance, I continued to toil on, without thought of resting for a
moment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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