Explore "The Little Savage" by Frederick Marryat on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I was now, by Jackson's account, nearly fourteen years old. During fourteen years but one vessel had been seen by us. It might be fourteen more, or double that time might elapse, before I should again fall in with any of my fellow-creatures. As these thoughts saddened me, I felt how much I would have sacrificed if Jackson had remained alive, were it only for his company; I would have forgiven him anything. I even then felt as if, in the murderer of my father, I had lost a friend.
That day I was so unsettled I could not do anything; I tried to read, but I could not; I tried to eat, but my appetite was gone, I sat looking at the ocean as it rolled wave after wave, sometimes wondering whether it would ever bring a fellow-creature to join me; at others I sat, and for hours, in perfect vacuity of thought. The evening closed in; it was dark, and I still remained seated where I was. At last I returned to my bed, almost brokenhearted; but fortunately I was soon asleep, and my sorrows were forgotten.