The Junior Classics, Volume 5: Stories that never grow old
General
The Junior Classics, Volume 5: Stories that never grow old
Children's literature
How often did I then wish myself with my dear Glumdalclitch, from
whom one single hour had so far divided me! And I may say with
truth, that in the midst of my own misfortunes I could not
forbear lamenting my poor nurse, the grief she would suffer for my
loss, the displeasure of the queen, and the ruin of her fortune.
Perhaps many travellers have not been under greater difficulties
and distress than I was at this juncture, expecting every moment
to see my box dashed to pieces, or at least overset by the first
violent blast or rising wave. A breach in one single pane of glass
would have been immediate death: nor could anything have preserved
the windows, but the strong lattice wires placed on the outside,
against accidents in travelling. I saw the water ooze in at
several crannies, although the leaks were not considerable, and I
endeavored to stop them as well as I could. I was not able to lift
up the roof of my closet, which otherwise I certainly should have
done, and sat on the top of it: where I might at least preserve
myself some hours longer, than by being shut up (as I may call it)
in the hold. Or if I escaped these dangers for a day or two, what
could I expect but a miserable death of cold and hunger? I was for
four hours under these circumstances, expecting, and indeed
wishing, every moment to be my last.
I have already told the reader that there were two strong staples
fixed upon that side of my box which had no window; and into which
the servant who used to carry me on horseback would put a leathern
belt, and buckle it about his waist. Being in this disconsolate
state, I heard, or at least thought I heard, some kind of grating
noise on that side of my box where the staples were fixed; and
soon after I began to fancy that the box was pulled or towed
along the sea; for I now and then felt a sort of tugging, which
made the waves rise near the tops of my windows, leaving me almost
in the dark. This gave me some faint hopes of relief, although I
was not able to imagine how it could be brought about. I ventured
to unscrew one of my chairs, which were always fastened to the
floor; and having made a hard shift to screw it down again
directly under the shipping-board that I had lately opened, I
mounted on the chair, and putting my mouth as near as I could to
the hole, I called for help in a loud voice, and in all the
languages I understood. I then fastened my handkerchief to a stick
I usually carried, and thrusting it up the hole, waved it several
times in the air, that if any boat or ship was near, the seamen
might conjecture some unhappy mortal to be shut up in the box.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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