But, curious to tell,
we felt but little inclination for food. It was water, bright water, cool,
sparkling water, alone, that we craved. And of this, also, our store at first
seemed ample. But as our voyage lengthened, and breezes blew faint, and calms
fell fast, the idea of being deprived of the precious fluid grew into something
little short of a monomania; especially with Jarl.
Every hour or two with
the hammer and chisel belonging to the
tinder box keg, he tinkered away at the invaluable breaker; driving down the
hoops, till in his over solicitude, I thought he would burst them outright.
Now the breaker lay on
its bilge, in the middle of the boat, where more or less sea-water always
collected. And ever and anon, dipping his fingers therein, my Viking was
troubled with the thought, that this sea-water tasted less brackish than that
alongside. Of course the breaker must be leaking. So, he would turn it over,
till its wet side came uppermost; when it would quickly become dry as a bone. But
now, with his knife, he would gently probe the joints of the staves; shake his
head; look up; look down; taste of the water at the bottom of the boat; then
that of the sea; then lift one end of the breaker; going through with every
test of leakage he could dream of. Nor was he ever fully satisfied, that the
breaker was in all respects sound. But in reality it was tight as the
drum-heads that beat at Cerro-Gordo. Oh! Jarl, Jarl: to me in the boat’s quiet
stern, steering and philosophizing at one time and the same, thou and thy
breaker were a study.
(Mardi, "Jarl's Misgivings")
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