Some sea-water had entered at that time.
Thirst took possession of us. I dared not permit the allowance of
water to be increased since an unfavourable wind might drive us away
from the island and lengthen our voyage by many days. Lack of water is
always the most severe privation that men can be condemned to endure,
and we found, as during our earlier boat voyage, that the salt water in
our clothing and the salt spray that lashed our faces made our thirst
grow quickly to a burning pain. I had to be very firm in refusing to
allow any one to anticipate the morrow's allowance, which I was
sometimes begged to do. We did the necessary work dully and hoped for
the land. I had altered the course to the east so as to make sure of
our striking the island, which would have been impossible to regain if
we had run past the northern end. The course was laid on our scrap of
chart for a point some thirty miles down the coast. That day and the
following day passed for us in a sort of nightmare. Our mouths were
dry and our tongues were swollen. The wind was still strong and the
heavy sea forced us to navigate carefully, but any thought of our peril
from the waves was buried beneath the consciousness of our raging
thirst. The bright moments were those when we each received our one
mug of hot milk during the long, bitter watches of the night.
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