Then a feeling of despair came over us, and we
actually longed for the time when the savages would take us forth to
die! But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled
sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat in
that dark cavern on our ledge of rock and conversed almost pleasantly
about the past, until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we
seldom ventured to touch upon the future.
A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed, and a scanty supply of
yams and taro, brought to us once a day, constituted our food.
"Well, Ralph, how have you slept?" said Jack in a listless tone, on
rising one morning from his humble couch. "Were you much disturbed by
the wind last night?"
"No," said I; "I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my
mother smiled upon me, and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not,
for I was chained."
"And I dreamed, too," said Peterkin; "but it was of our happy home on
the Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden; then
the savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at
Spouting Cliff, which, somehow or other, changed into this gloomy
cavern; and I awoke to find it true."
Peterkin's tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his
long imprisonment that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should
scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry,
cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear.
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