When was I wrecked?
When was I first adrift in the boat?
When did I get the tiller in my hand and fight against hunger and sleep?
When did the gnawing in my breast, and the burning in my head, first begin?
I have lost all reckoning of it.

I can't think; I can't sleep; I can't get the wash of the sea out of my ears.

What are you baiting me with questions for?
Let me eat!" Even the sailors pitied him.

The sailors asked leave of their officer to add a little drink to his meal.
"We've got a drop of grog with us, sir, in a bottle.

May we give it to him ?" "Certainly!" He took the bottle fiercely, as he had taken the food, drank a little, stopped, and considered with himself again.