I shall
      not attempt to describe my feelings of rage (for I believe I was
      more angry than any thing else) when the egregious oversight I
      had committed flashed suddenly upon my perception. The blunder
      itself would have been unimportant, had not my own folly and
      impetuosity rendered it otherwise—in my disappointment at not
      finding some words upon the slip, I had childishly torn it in
      pieces and thrown it away, it was impossible to say where. From the worst part of this dilemma I was relieved by the
      sagacity of Tiger. Having got, after a long search, a small piece
      of the note, I put it to the dog’s nose, and endeavored to make
      him understand that he must bring me the rest of it. To my
      astonishment, (for I had taught him none of the usual tricks for
      which his breed are famous,) he seemed to enter at once into my
      meaning, and, rummaging about for a few moments, soon found
      another considerable portion. Bringing me this, he paused awhile,
      and, rubbing his nose against my hand, appeared to be waiting for
      my approval of what he had done. I patted him on the head, when
      he immediately made off again. It was now some minutes before he
      came back—but when he did come, he brought with him a large slip,
      which proved to be all the paper missing—it having been torn, it
      seems, only into three pieces. Luckily, I had no trouble in
      finding what few fragments of the phosphorus were left—being
      guided by the indistinct glow one or two of the particles still
      emitted. My difficulties had taught me the necessity of caution,
      and I now took time to reflect upon what I was about to do. It
      was very probable, I considered, that some words were written
      upon that side of the paper which had not been examined—but which
      side was that? Fitting the pieces together gave me no clew in
      this respect, although it assured me that the words (if there
      were any) would be found all on one side, and connected in a
      proper manner, as written. There was the greater necessity of
      ascertaining the point in question beyond a doubt, as the
      phosphorus remaining would be altogether insufficient for a third
      attempt, should I fail in the one I was now about to make. I
      placed the paper on a book as before, and sat for some minutes
      thoughtfully revolving the matter over in my mind. At last I
      thought it barely possible that the written side might have some
      unevenness on its surface, which a delicate sense of feeling
      might enable me to detect. I determined to make the experiment
      and passed my finger very carefully over the side which first
      presented itself. Nothing, however, was perceptible, and I turned
      the paper, adjusting it on the book. I now again carried my
      forefinger cautiously along, when I was aware of an exceedingly
      slight, but still discernable glow, which followed as it
      proceeded. This, I knew, must arise from some very minute
      remaining particles of the phosphorus with which I had covered
      the paper in my previous attempt. The other, or under side, then,
      was that on which lay the writing, if writing there should
      finally prove to be. Again I turned the note, and went to work as
      I had previously done. Having rubbed in the phosphorus, a
      brilliancy ensued as before—but this time several lines of MS. in
      a large hand, and apparently in red ink, became distinctly
      visible. The glimmer, although sufficiently bright, was but
      momentary. Still, had I not been too greatly excited, there would
      have been ample time enough for me to peruse the whole three
      sentences before me—for I saw there were three. In my anxiety,
      however, to read all at once, I succeeded only in reading the
      seven concluding words, which thus appeared—“blood—your life
      depends upon lying close.”

      Had I been able to ascertain the entire contents of the note—the
      full meaning of the admonition which my friend had thus attempted
      to convey, that admonition, even although it should have revealed
      a story of disaster the most unspeakable, could not, I am firmly
      convinced, have imbued my mind with one tithe of the harrowing
      and yet indefinable horror with which I was inspired by the
      fragmentary warning thus received. And “blood,” too, that word of
      all words—so rife at all times with mystery, and suffering, and
      terror—how trebly full of import did it now appear—how chilly and
      heavily (disjointed, as it thus was, from any foregoing words to
      qualify or render it distinct) did its vague syllables fall, amid
      the deep gloom of my prison, into the innermost recesses of my
      soul! Augustus had, undoubtedly, good reasons for wishing me to remain
      concealed, and I formed a thousand surmises as to what they could
      be—but I could think of nothing affording a satisfactory solution
      of the mystery. Just after returning from my last journey to the
      trap, and before my attention had been otherwise directed by the
      singular conduct of Tiger, I had come to the resolution of making
      myself heard at all events by those on board, or, if I could not
      succeed in this directly, of trying to cut my way through the
      orlop deck. The half certainty which I felt of being able to
      accomplish one of these two purposes in the last emergency, had
      given me courage (which I should not otherwise have had) to
      endure the evils of my situation. The few words I had been able
      to read, however, had cut me off from these final resources, and
      I now, for the first time, felt all the misery of my fate. In a
      paroxysm of despair I threw myself again upon the mattress,
      where, for about the period of a day and night, I lay in a kind
      of stupor, relieved only by momentary intervals of reason and
      recollection. At length I once more arose, and busied myself in reflection upon
      the horrors which encompassed me. For another twenty-four hours
      it was barely possible that I might exist without water—for a
      longer time I could not do so. During the first portion of my
      imprisonment I had made free use of the cordials with which
      Augustus had supplied me, but they only served to excite fever,
      without in the least degree assuaging thirst. I had now only
      about a gill left, and this was of a species of strong peach
      liqueur at which my stomach revolted. The sausages were entirely
      consumed; of the ham nothing remained but a small piece of the
      skin; and all the biscuit, except a few fragments of one, had
      been eaten by Tiger.