To Have & To Hold by Mary Johnson Chapter 25 Page 11

biscuit that I wanted not, and water for which I thirsted. Sparrow put the small pitcher to his lips, kept it there a moment, then held it to mine. I drank, and with that generous draught tasted pure bliss. It was not until five minutes later that I raised myself upon my elbow and turned on him.

“The pitcher felt full to my lips!” I exclaimed. “Did you drink when you said you did?”

He put out his great hand and pushed me gently down. “I have no wound,” he said, “and there was not enough for two.”

The light that trembled through the cracks above died away, and the darkness became gross. The air in the hold was stifling; our souls panted for the wind and the stars outside. At the worst, when the fetid