All this was pleasant enough, but it couldn’t last for ever. After the first week’s rest, which was real pleasure and enjoyment, we began to find the life too dull and dozy. We’d had quite enough of a quiet life, and began to long for a bit of work and danger again. Chaps that have got something on their minds can’t stand idleness, it plays the bear with them. I’ve always found they get thinking and thinking till they get a low fit like, and then if there’s any grog handy they try to screw themselves up with that. It gives them a lift for a time, but afterwards they have to pay for it over and over again. That’s where the drinking habit comes in—they can’t help it—they must drink. If you’ll take the trouble to watch men (and women, too) that have been “in trouble” you’ll find that nineteen out of every twenty drink like fishes when they get the chance. It ain’t the love of the liquor, as teetotallers and those kind of good people always are ramming down your throats—it’s the love of nothing. But it’s the fear of their own thoughts—the dreadful misery—the anxiety about what’s to come, that’s always hanging like a black cloud over their heads. That’s what they can’t stand; and liquor, for a bit, mind you—say a few hours or so—takes all that kind of feeling clean away. Of course it returns, harder than before, but that says nothing. It can be driven away. All the heavyheartedness which a man feels, but never puts into words, flies away with the first or second glass of grog. If a man was suffering pains of any kind, or was being stretched on the rack (I never knew what a rack was till I’d time for reading in gaol, except a horse-rack), or was being flogged, and a glass of anything he could swallow would make him think he was on a feather bed enjoying a pleasant doze, wouldn’t he swig it off, do you think? And suppose there were times when a man feels as if hell couldn’t be much worse than what he’s feeling all the long day through—and I tell you there are—I, who have often stood it hour after hour—won’t he drink then? And why shouldn’t he?