when i came to myself again, and found my state-room—although the dead-light was set—bright with the light which entered through the broken door, my first feeling was of wonder that i was not yet drowned; for it was evident that the sun must be well up in the heavens to shine so strongly, and therefore that a good many hours must have passed since the smash had happened that had sent everybody flying to the boats believing that the ship was going right down. and my next wonder was caused by the queer way in which the ship was lying—making me fancy at first that i was dizzy again, and my eyes tricking me—with a pitch forward that gave a slope to the floor of my state-room, of not less than twenty degrees.
for a while, in a stupid sort of way, i ruminated over these matters; and at last got hold of the simple explanation of them. evidently, in spite of the straining of the steamer's frame in the storm, her water-tight compartments—or some of them—had held, leaving her floating with her broken bow well down in the water and her stern canted up into the air. and then the farther comforting thought came to me that if she had kept afloat for so many hours already, and seemed so steady in her new position, there was no reason why she should not keep on floating at least for as long as the fine weather lasted—which gave me a chance of rescue by some passing vessel, and so brought a good deal of hope back into my heart.
i still was very weak and shaky, and how i was to get out of the prison that i was in i did not know. by daylight it was easy to see what held me there: which was the end of a yard, with the reef-block hanging to it, smashed through the upper panel and caught so tight in the splintered wood-work as to anchor the door fast. if the wits of the steward and of the other fellow had not been scared clean out of them they easily might have knocked in the lower part of the door with an axe and so opened a way out for me; but as their only notion had been to cut away the spar—a tough piece of work—i could not in cool blood very greatly blame them for having given up my rescue and run for their own lives.
these thoughts went through my head while i lay there, most uncomfortably, on the sloping floor. presently i managed to get up, but felt so dizzy that i had to seat myself in a hurry on the edge of the berth until my head got steadier. fortunately my water-jug was half full, and i had a good drink from it which refreshed me greatly; and then i had the farther good fortune to see some biscuit which the steward had left on a shelf in the corner, and as i caught sight of them i realized that i was very hungry indeed. i ate one, along with some more sups of water, and felt much the better for it; but lay down in my berth that i might save the strength it gave me until i should have thought matters over a little and settled some line of action in my mind.
that i was too weak to break the door down was quite certain, and the only other thing that i could think of was cutting out the lower panels and so making a hole through which i could crawl. as this thought came to me i remembered the big jack-knife that had been in my trousers' pocket when i went overboard from the brig; and in a minute i was on my feet—and without feeling any dizziness, this time—and got to where my clothes were hanging on a hook, and found to my joy that my knife and all the other things which had been in my pockets had been returned to them after the clothes had been dried. the knife was badly rusted and i had a hard time opening it; but the rust did not much dull it, and i seated myself upon the floor and fell to slicing away at the soft pine wood with a will. i had to rest now and then, although i found that my strength held out better than i had hoped for, and that put me back a little; but the wood was so soft that in not much more than half an hour i had the job finished—and then i slipped on my trousers, and out i went through the hole on my hands and knees.
i found the cabin in utter wreck: littered everywhere with broken glass and broken wood from the skylight, and from the smashed hanging-racks and the smashed dining-table, and with splinters from the mast—which had broken in falling, and along the whole length of the place had made a tangle of its own fragments and of the ropes and blocks which had held its sails. of the sails themselves there were left only some fuzzy traces clinging to the bolt-ropes, all the rest having been blown loose and frayed away by the storm. oddly enough, some of the drinking-glasses still remained unbroken in one of the racks, and with them a bottle partly filled with wine—to the neck of which a card was fastened bearing the name, josé rubio y salinas, of the passenger to whom it had belonged. i took the liberty of drinking a glass of don josé's wine—feeling sure that he was not coming back to claim it—and felt so much better after it that i thanked him cordially for leaving it there.
most of the state-room doors stood open, showing within clothing tossed about and trunks with their lids turned back, and the general confusion in which the passengers had left things when they scrambled together their most precious belongings and rushed for the boats—with death, as they fancied, treading close upon their heels. but with what remained in the state-rooms i did not concern myself, being desirous first of all to get on deck and have a look about me that i might size up my chances of keeping alive. that there was no companion-way up from the cabin puzzled me a little, for i knew nothing of the internal arrangements of steamships; but presently i found a passage leading forward, and by that i came to the stair to the deck of which i was in search.
up it i went, but when i fairly got outside and saw the desperate state of the craft that i was afloat on my heart sank. indeed, it seemed a flying in the face of all reason that such an utter wreck should float at all. of the foremast nothing but the splintered stump remained. the starboard rail, which had been to windward of it, was gashed by chance axe-blows made in cutting away the shrouds; and as to the port rail, twenty feet of it was gone entirely where the mast had come crashing down, while the side-plates below were bulged out with the strain put upon them before the standing-rigging fastened there had fetched away. the mizzen-mast lay aft across the cabin skylight, with its standing and running rigging making a tangle on each side of it. the main-mast still stood, but with its top-mast broken off and dangling nearly to the deck. two of the weather-boats remained fast to the davits, but so smashed that they looked like battered tin wash-basins, and would have floated just about as well. all the other boats were gone: those on the weather side, as the splintered ways and broken ropes showed, having been washed overboard; and those to leeward having been hoisted out by the tackles, which still hung from the davits and dipped lazily with the ship's easy motion into the sea.
all this was bad enough, but what most took the spirit out of me was the way that the ship was lying—her stern high up in the air, and her bow so deep in the water that the sea came up almost to her main-mast along her sloping deck. it seemed inevitable that in another moment she would follow her nose in the start downward that it had made and go straight to the bottom; and each little wave, as it lapped its way aft softly, made me fancy that the plunge had begun.
as to the outlook around me, the only comfort that i got from it was the fairness of the weather and the smoothness of the sea. for close upon the water a soft haze was hanging that even to the north, out of which blew a gentle wind, brought the horizon within a mile of me; and down to leeward the haze was banked so thick that i could make out nothing beyond half a mile. and so, even though a whole fleet might be passing near me, my chances of rescue were very small. but from the look of the ocean i knew that no fleets were likely to be thereabouts, and that even though the haze lifted i might search long and vainly for sight of so much as a single sail. as far as i could see around me the water was covered thickly with gulf-weed, and with this was all sorts of desolate flotsam—planks, and parts of masts, and fragments of ships' timbers—lolling languidly on the soft swell that was running, yet each scrap having behind it its own personal tragedy of death and storm. and this mess of wreckage was so much thicker than i had seen when the brig was on the coast—as bowers had called it—of the sargasso sea as to convince me that already i must be within the borders of that ocean mystery which a little while before i had been so keen for exploring; and my fate seemed sealed to me as i realized that i therefore was in a region which every living ship steered clear of, and into which never any but dead ships came.
