The wind
shifted to the northward, and the rain cleared up, but it was only to
make the corporal suffer more, for the freezing blast poured upon his
wet clothes, and he felt chilled to the very centre of his vitals. His
whole body trembled convulsively, he was frozen to the thwart, yet there
was no appearance of daylight coming, and the corporal now abandoned
himself to utter hopelessness and desperation, and commenced praying. He
attempted the Lord's Prayer in Dutch, but could get no further than "art
in heaven," for the rest, from disuse, had quite escaped the corporal's
memory. He tried to recollect something else, but was equally
unsuccessful; at last, he made up a sad mixture of swearing and praying.
"Mein Gott--a hundred tousand tyfels--gut Gott--twenty hundred tousand
tyfels! Ah, Gott of mercy--million of tyfels! holy Gott Jesus! twenty
millions of tyfels--Gott for dam, I die of cold!" Such were the
ejaculations of the corporal, allowing about ten minutes to intervene
between each, during which the wind blew more freshly, the waves rose,
and the boat was whirled away.
But the corporal's miseries were to be prolonged; the flood-time of
water was now spent, and the ebb commenced flowing against the wind and
sea.
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