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.