So practicable did the design appear, that I had not a doubt of being able to accomplish it; and the certainty I now felt of getting at the precious contents of the cask, produced a complete revulsion in my feelings--another sudden transition from despair to hope. I groped eagerly about, and soon recovered the knife. I had scarce looked at it, on receiving it from the hands of the friendly sailor. Now I examined it carefully--by the touch, of course--I felt it all over; and as well as I was able by such a test, calculated its strength and fitness for the work I had designed for it. It was what is termed a "jack-knife," with a buckhorn handle, and but one blade--a sort in common use among sailors, who usually carry them on a string passed around the neck, and to which the knife is attached by a hole drilled in the haft. The blade was a square one, drawn to an angular point, and shaped somewhat like the blade of a razor. Like the latter, too, the back was thick and strong, as I could tell by the "feel." I was gratified at perceiving this, for I knew that it would require a strong blade to hew a hole through the tough staves of oak. The instrument I held in my hands was the very thing for the purpose, almost as good as a chisel. Haft and blade were nearly of equal length, and when opened out, they measured about ten inches together. I have been thus particular in describing this knife; and from me it merits all that has been said, and far more, in praise of its good qualities; since, but for it, I should not now be alive to give an account of its wonderful performances. Well, having opened the knife, and drawn my fingers along the blade, and felt it over and over again, in order to get acquainted with its form and fitness; and then, having examined the back-spring, and tried its strength by various openings and shuttings: having done all this, I went to work upon the hard oak. You will wonder that I wanted to take all these precautions. You will fancy that, tortured as I was by thirst, I would scarce have had so much patience, but would have set about making the hole at once, in order the sooner to get relief by a draught of the water. Certainly my patience was greatly tempted; but I never was what is called a rash boy, and in that dark hour I felt more than ever in my life the necessity of prudence and caution. I knew that death--a horrid death from thirst-- awaited me, if I did not succeed in getting at the contents of the cask; and should any accident happen to the knife, should the blade break, or even the point be snapped off, this death would surely be my fate. No wonder, then, I took the precaution to examine well my weapon and ascertain its strength. I might have acted with more recklessness had I reflected more. Even had I been certain of procuring the water, what then? It could only save me from dying of thirst. But hunger? How was that to be relieved? Water was drink, but not food. Where was I to find food?