BY THIS MORNING the captain had recovered somewhat but he looked a miserable creature, as we all did. Our faces seemed sunken and hollowed-out, the limbs of many men appeared either to have contracted or become swollen intolerably by our cramped conditions, and we were sleeping for large parts of the day. I recall thinking that my life now consisted of only two things: rowing our launch or lying asleep. Conversation had died, argument had diffused, hope simmered gently.
When implored by the men to gauge the distance, Captain Bligh insisted that it would not be long now and we should be alert, every man jack of us, for the sight of land in case we had drifted too far off our course, that it would take keen eyes to discover it, but many of us had difficulties with this proposition, for our sight was lowly. My left eye had improved a little, but the shadow remained behind it and, although I had no glass to prove it, I doubted that I was the pretty lad I had been when I had left Portsmouth, or even Otaheite.
It was at this stage that my spirits sank again. Forty-five days we had been at sea and, while I yet lived, it was a miserable existence. I longed for freedom, for land to run upon, a fine meal to eat. I found myself regretting painfully the fact that I had chosen loyalty to the captain over a life of ease and sensual pleasure on the island. I found my anger bubbling and when I looked towards Mr Bligh I wondered what manner of man was he anyway, and why I had followed him when I was heading towards certain death.
I longed for food and water.
I was desperate for it.