My Little Quart Of Water I Could Easily Have Drunk In One
Draught, And To Refrain From Doing So Required A Severe Exertion Of
Will.
Nor was I alone in this.
All of us talked water, thought
water, and dreamed water when we slept. We examined the charts for
possible islands to which to run in extremity, but there were no
such islands. The Marquesas were the nearest, and they were the
other side of the Line, and of the doldrums, too, which made it even
worse. We were in 3 degrees north latitude, while the Marquesas
were 9 degrees south latitude - a difference of over a thousand
miles. Furthermore, the Marquesas lay some fourteen degrees to the
west of our longitude. A pretty pickle for a handful of creatures
sweltering on the ocean in the heat of tropic calms.
We rigged lines on either side between the main and mizzen riggings.
To these we laced the big deck awning, hoisting it up aft with a
sailing pennant so that any rain it might collect would run forward
where it could be caught. Here and there squalls passed across the
circle of the sea. All day we watched them, now to port or
starboard, and again ahead or astern. But never one came near
enough to wet us. In the afternoon a big one bore down upon us. It
spread out across the ocean as it approached, and we could see it
emptying countless thousands of gallons into the salt sea.
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