of obtaining salt by evaporating sea-water in the sun; “and then,” he
added, “we can salt down the rest.”
The boatswain assented to what the carpenter had said, and probably the
suggestion was adopted.
Silence, the most profound, now reigns upon the raft. I presume that
nearly all have gone to sleep. One thing I do know, that they are no
longer hungry!
CHAPTER XLVIII.
JANUARY 19th.--All through the day the sky remained unclouded and
the heat intense; and night came on without bringing much sensible
moderation in the temperature. I was unable to get any sleep, and,
towards morning, was disturbed by hearing an angry clamour going on
outside the tent; it aroused M. Letourneur, Andre and Miss Herbey,
as much as myself, and we were anxious to ascertain the cause of the
tumult.
The boatswain, Dowlas, and all the sailors were storming at each other
in frightful rage; and Curtis, who had come forward from the stern, was
vainly endeavouring to pacify them.
“But who has done it? we must know who has done it,” said Dowlas,
scowling with vindictive passion on the group around him.
“There’s a thief,” howled out the boatswain, “and he shall be found!
Let’s know who has taken it.”
“I haven’t taken it!” “Nor I!” “Nor I!” cried the sailors one after
another.
And then they set to work again to ransack every quarter of the raft;
they rolled every spar aside, they overturned everything on board,
and only grew more and more incensed with anger as their search proved
fruitless.
“Can YOU tell us,” said the boatswain, coming up to me, “who is the
thief?”
“Thief!” I replied. “I don’t know what you mean.”
And while we were speaking the others all came up together, and told me
that they had looked everywhere else, and that they were going now to
search the tent.
“Shame!” I said. “You ought to allow those whom you know to be dying of
hunger at least to die in peace. There is not one of us who has left the
tent all night. Why suspect us?”
“Now just look here, Mr. Kazallon,” said the boatswain, in a voice which
he was endeavouring to calm down into moderation, “we are not accusing
you of anything; we know well enough you, and all the rest of you, had
a right to your shares as much as anybody; but that isn’t it. It’s all
gone somewhere, every bit.”
“Yes,” said Sandon gruffly; “it’s all gone somewheres, and we are a
going to search the tent.”
Resistance was useless, and Miss Herbey, M. Letourneur, and Andre were
all turned out.
I confess I was very fearful. I had a strong suspicion that for the sake
of his son, for whom he was ready to venture anything, M. Letourneur
had committed the theft; in that case I knew that nothing would have
prevented the infuriated men from tearing the devoted father to pieces.
I beckoned to Curtis for protection, and he came and stood beside me. He
said nothing, but waited with his hands in his pockets, and I think I am
not mistaken in my belief that there was some sort of a weapon in each.
To my great relief the search was ineffectual. There was no doubt that
the carcase of the suicide had been thrown overboard, and the rage of
the disappointed cannibals knew no bounds.
Yet who had ventured to do the deed! I looked at M. Letourneur and Miss
Herbey; but their countenances at once betrayed their ignorance. Andre
turned his face away, and his eyes did not meet my own. Probably it is
he; but, if it be, I wonder whether he has reckoned up the consequences
of so rash an act.
CHAPTER XLIX.
JANUARY 20th to 22nd.--For the day or two after the horrible repast of
the 18th those who had partaken of it appeared to suffer comparatively
little either from hunger or thirst; but for the four of us who had
tasted nothing, the agony of suffering grew more and more intense. It
was enough to make us repine over the loss of the provision that had so
mysteriously gone; and if any one of us should die, I doubt whether the
survivors would a second time resist the temptation to assuage their
pangs by tasting human flesh.
Before long, all the cravings of hunger began to return to the sailors,
and I could see their eyes greedily glancing upon us, starved as they
knew us to be, as though they were reckoning our hours, and already were
preparing to consume us as their prey.
As is always the case with shipwrecked men, we were tormented by thirst
far more than by hunger; and if, in the height of our sufferings, we had
been offered our choice between a few drops of water and a few crumbs
of biscuit, I do not doubt that we should, without exception, have
preferred to take the water.
And what a mockery to our condition did it seem that all this while
there was water, water, nothing but water, everywhere around us! Again
and again, incapable of comprehending how powerless it was to relieve
me, I put a few drops within my lips, but only with the invariable
result of bringing on a most trying nausea, and rendering my thirst more
unendurable than before.
Forty-two days had passed since we quitted the sinking “Chancellor.”
There could be no hope now; all of us must die, and by the most
deplorable of deaths. I was quite conscious that a mist was gathering
over my brain; I felt my senses sinking into a condition of torpor; I
made an effort, but all in vain, to master the delirium that I was aware
was taking possession of my reason. It is out of my power to decide for
how long I lost my consciousness; but when I came to myself I found
that Miss Herbey had folded some wet bandages around my forehead. I am
somewhat better; but I am weakened, mind and body, and I am conscious
that I have not long to live.
A frightful fatality occurred to-day. The scene was terrible. Jynxstrop
the negro went raving mad. Curtis and several of the men tried their
utmost to control him, but in spite of everything he broke loose,
and tore up and down the raft, uttering fearful yells. He had gained
possession of a handspike, and rushed upon us all with the ferocity
of an infuriated tiger; how we contrived to escape mischief from his
attacks, I know not. All at once, by one of those unaccountable impulses
of madness, his rage turned against himself. With his teeth and nails he
gnawed and tore away at his own flesh; dashing the blood into our faces,
he shrieked out with a demoniacal grin, “Drink, drink!” and flinging us
gory morsels, kept saying “Eat, eat!” In the midst of his insane shrieks
he made a sudden pause, then dashing back again from the stern to the
front, he made a bound and disappeared beneath the waves.
Falsten, Dowlas, and the boatswain, made a rush that at least they might
secure the body; but it was too late; all that they could see was a
crimson circle in the water, and some huge sharks disporting themselves
around the spot.
CHAPTER L.
JANUARY 23rd.--Only eleven of us now remain; and the probability is very
great that every day must now carry off at least its one victim, and
perhaps more. The end of the tragedy is rapidly approaching, and save
for the chance, which is next to an impossibility, of our sighting land,
or being picked up by a passing vessel, ere another week has elapsed not
a single survivor of the “Chancellor” will remain.
The wind freshened considerably in the night, and it is now blowing
pretty briskly from the north-east. It has filled our sail, and
the white foam in our wake is an indication that we are making some
progress. The captain reckons that we must be advancing at the rate of
about three miles an hour.
Curtis and Falsten are certainly in the best condition amongst us, and
in spite of their extreme emaciation they bear up wonderfully under
the protracted hardships we have all endured. Words cannot describe the
melancholy state to which poor Miss Herbey bodily is reduced; her whole
being seems absorbed into her soul, but that soul is brave and resolute
as ever, living in heaven rather than on earth. The boatswain, strong,
energetic man that he was, has shrunk into a mere shadow of his former
self, and I doubt whether any one would recognize him to be the same
man. He keeps perpetually to one corner of the raft, his head dropped
upon his chest, and his long, bony hands lying upon knees that project
sharply from his worn-out trowsers. Unlike Miss Herbey, his spirit seems
to have sunk into apathy, and it is at times difficult to believe that
he is living at all, so motionless and statue-like does he sit.
Silence continues to reign upon the raft. Not a sound, not even a groan,
escapes our lips. We do not exchange ten words in the course of the
day, and the few syllables that our parched tongue and swollen lips can
pronounce are almost unintelligible. Wasted and bloodless, we are no
longer human beings; we are spectres.
CHAPTER LI.
JANUARY 24th.--I have inquired more than once of Curtis if he has the
faintest idea to what quarter of the Atlantic we have drifted, and each
time he has been unable to give me a decided answer, though from
his general observation of the direction of the wind and currents he
imagines that we have been carried westwards, that is to say, towards
the land.
To-day the breeze has dropped entirely, but the heavy swell is still
upon the sea, and is an unquestionable sign that a tempest has been
raging at no great distance. The raft labours hard against the waves,
and Curtis, Falsten, and the boatswain, employ the little energy that
remains to them in strengthening the joints. Why do they give themselves
such trouble? Why not let the few frail planks part asunder, and allow
the ocean to terminate our miserable existence? Certain it seems that
our sufferings must have reached their utmost limit, and nothing could
exceed the torture that we are enduring. The sky pours down upon us a
heat like that of molten lead, and the sweat that saturates the tattered
clothes that hang about our bodies goes far to aggravate the agonies
of our thirst. No words of mine can describe this dire distress; these
sufferings are beyond human estimate.
Even bathing, the only means of refreshment that we possessed, has now
become impossible, for ever since Jynxstrop’s death the sharks have hung
about the raft in shoals.
To-day I tried to gain a few drops of fresh water by evaporation, but
even with the exercise of the greatest patience, it was with the utmost
difficulty that I obtained enough to moisten a little scrap of linen;
and the only kettle that we had was so old and battered, that it would
not bear the fire, so that I was obliged to give up the attempt in
despair.
Falsten is now almost exhausted, and if he survives us at all, it can
only be for a few days. Whenever I raised my head I always failed to see
him, but he was probably lying sheltered somewhere beneath the sails.
Curtis was the only man who remained on his feet, but with indomitable
pluck he continued to stand on the front of the raft, waiting, watching,
hoping. To look at him, with his unflagging energy, almost tempted me to
imagine that he did well to hope, but I dared nor entertain one sanguine
thought; and there I lay, waiting, nay, longing for death.
How many hours passed away thus I cannot tell, but after a time a loud
peal of laughter burst upon my ear Some one else, then, was going mad,
I thought; but the idea did not rouse me in the least. The laughter was
repeated with greater vehemence, but I never raised my head. Presently I
caught a few incoherent words.
“Fields, fields, gardens and trees! Look, there’s an inn under the
trees! Quick, quick! brandy, gin, water! a guinea a drop! I’ll pay for
it! I’ve lots of money! lots! lots!”
Poor deluded wretch! I thought again; the wealth of a nation could not
buy a drop of water here. There was silence for a minute, when all of a
sudden I heard the shout of “Land! land!”
The words acted upon me like an electric shock, and, with a frantic
effort, I started to my feet. No land, indeed, was visible, but
Flaypole, laughing, singing, and gesticulating, was raging up and down
the raft. Sight, taste and hearing--all were gone; but the cerebral
derangement supplied their place, and in imagination the maniac was
conversing with absent friends, inviting them into the George Inn at
Cardiff, offering them gin, whisky, and, above all water! Stumbling at
every step, and singing in a cracked, discordant voice, he staggered
about amongst us like an intoxicated man. With the loss of his senses
all his sufferings had vanished, and his thirst was appeased. It was
hard not to wish to be a partaker of his hallucination.
Dowlas, Falsten, and the boatswain, seemed to think that the unfortunate
wretch would, like Jynxstrop, put an end to himself by leaping into the
sea; but, determined this time to preserve the body, that it might serve
a better purpose than merely feeding the sharks, they rose and followed
the madman everywhere he went, keeping a strict eye upon his every
movement.
But the matter did not end as they expected. As though he were really
intoxicated by the stimulants of which he had been raving, Flaypole at
last sank down in a heap in a corner of the raft, where he lay lost in a
heavy slumber.
CHAPTER LII.
JANUARY 25th.--Last night was very misty, and for some unaccountable
reason, one of the hottest that can be imagined. The atmosphere was
really so stifling, that it seemed as if it only required a spark to set
it alight. The raft was not only quite stationary, but did not even rise
and fall with any motion of the waves.
During the night I tried to count how many there were now on board,
but I was utterly unable to collect my ideas sufficiently to make the
enumeration. Sometimes I counted ten, sometimes twelve, and although
I knew that eleven, since Jynxstrop was dead, was the correct number, I
could never bring my reckoning right. Of one thing I felt quite sure,
and that was that the number would very soon be ten. I was convinced
that I could myself last but very little longer. All the events and
associations of my life passed rapidly through my brain, My country, my
friends, and my family all appeared as it were in a vision, and seemed
as though they had come to bid me a last farewell.
Towards morning I woke from my sleep, if the languid stupour into
which I had fallen was worthy of that name. One fixed idea had taken
possession of my brain; I would put an end to myself, and I felt a
sort of pleasure as I gloated over the power that I had to terminate my
sufferings. I told Curtis, with the utmost composure, of my intention,
and he received the intelligence as calmly as it was delivered.
“Of course you will do as you please,” he said; “for, my own part, I
shall not abandon my post. It is my duty to remain here, and unless
death comes to carry me away, I shall stay where I am to the very last.”
The dull grey fog still hung heavily over the ocean, but the sun was
evidently shining above the mist, and would, in course of time, dispel
the vapour. Towards seven o’clock I fancied I heard the cries of birds
above my head. The sound was repeated three times, and as I went up to
the captain to ask him about it, I heard him mutter to himself,--
“Birds! why, that looks as if land were not far off.”
But although Curtis might still cling to the hope of reaching land,
I knew not what it was to have one sanguine thought. For me there was
neither continent nor island; the world was one fluid sphere,
uniform, monotonous, as in the most primitive period of its formation.
Nevertheless it must be owned that it was with a certain amount of
impatience that I awaited the rising of the mist, for I was anxious to
shake off the phantom fallacies that Curtis’s words had suggested to my
mind.
Not till eleven o’clock did the fog begin to break, and as it rolled in
heavy folds along the surface of the water, I could every now and then
catch glimpses of a clear blue sky beyond. Fierce sunbeams pierced the
cloud-rifts, scorching and burning our bodies like red-hot iron; but
it was only above our heads that there was any sunlight to condense the
vapour; the horizon was still quite invisible. There was no wind, and
for half an hour longer the fog hung heavily round the raft; whilst
Curtis, leaning against the side, strove to penetrate the obscurity. At
length the sun burst forth in full power, and, sweeping the surface of
the ocean, dispelled the fog, and left the horizon opened to our eyes.
There, exactly as we had seen it for the last six weeks, was the circle
that bounded sea and sky, unbroken, definite, distinct as ever! Curtis
gazed with intensest scrutiny, but did not speak a word. I pitied him
sincerely, for he alone of us all felt that he had not the right to put
an end to his misery. For myself I had fully determined that if I
lived till the following day, I would die by my own hand. Whether my
companions were still alive, I hardly cared to know; it seemed as though
days had passed since I had seen them.
Night drew on, but I could not sleep for a moment. Towards two o’clock
in the morning my thirst was so intense that I was unable to suppress
loud cries of agony. Was there nothing that would serve to quench the
fire that was burning within me? What if instead of drinking the blood
of others I were to drink my own? It would be all unavailing, I was well
aware, but scarcely had the thought crossed my mind, than I proceeded to
put it into execution. I unclasped my knife, and, stripping my arm, with
a steady thrust I opened a small vein. The blood oozed out slowly, drop
by drop, and as I eagerly swallowed the source of my very life, I felt
that for a moment my torments were relieved, But only for a moment; all
energy had failed my pulses, and almost immediately the blood had ceased
to flow.
How long it seemed before the morning dawned! and when that morning came
it brought another fog, heavy as before that again shut out the horizon.
The fog was hot as the burning steam that issues from a boiler. It was
to be my last day upon earth, and I felt that I would like to press the
hand of a friend before I died. Curtis was standing near, and crawling
up to him, I took his hand in my own. He seemed to know that I was
taking my farewell, and with one last lingering hope he endeavoured to
restrain me. But all in vain, my mind was finally made up.
I should have like to speak once again to M. Letourneur, Andre and Miss
Herbey, but my courage failed me. I knew that the young girl would read
my resolution in my eyes, and that she would speak to me of duty and of
God, and of eternity, and I dared not meet her gaze; and I would not
run the risk of being persuaded to wait until a lingering death should
overtake me. I returned to the back of the raft, and after making
several efforts, I managed to get on to my feet. I cast one long look at
the pitiless ocean and the unbroken horizon; if a sail or the outline of
a coast bad broken on my view, I believe that I should only have deemed
myself the victim of an illusion; but nothing of the kind appeared, and
the sea was dreary as a desert.
It was ten o’clock in the morning. The pangs of hunger and the torments
of thirst were racking me with redoubled vigour. All instinct of
self-preservation had left me, and I felt that the hour had come when
I must cease to suffer. Just as I was on the point of casting myself
headlong into the sea, a voice, which I recognized as Dowlas’s; broke
upon my ear.
“Captain,” he said, “we are going to draw lots.”
Involuntarily I paused; I did not take my plunge, but returned to my
place upon the raft.
CHAPTER LIII.
JANUARY 26th.--All heard and understood the proposition; in fact, it had
been in contemplation for several days, but no one had ventured to put
the idea into words. However, it was done now; lots were to be drawn,
and to each would be assigned his share of the body of the one ordained
by fate to be the victim. For my own part, I profess that I was quite
resigned for the lot to fall upon myself. I thought I heard Andre
Letourneur beg for an exception to be made in favour of Miss Herbey, but
the sailors raised a murmur of dissent. As there were eleven of us on
board, there were ten chances to one in each one’s favour, a proportion
which would be diminished if Miss Herbey were excluded, so that the
young lady was forced to take her chance among the rest.
It was then half-past ten, and the boatswain, who had been roused from
his lethargy by what the carpenter had said, insisted that the drawing
should take place immediately. There was no reason for postponing the
fatal lottery. There was not one of us that clung in the least to life,
and we knew that at the worst, whoever should be doomed to die, would
only precede the rest by a few days, or even hours. All that we desired
was just once to slake our raging thirst and moderate our gnawing
hunger.
How all the names found their way to the bottom of a hat I cannot
tell. Very likely Falsten wrote them upon a leaf torn from his
memorandum-book. But be that as it may, the eleven names were there, and
it was unanimously agreed that the last name drawn should be the victim.
But who would draw the names? There was hesitation for a moment; then,
“I will,” said a voice behind me. Turning round, I beheld M. Letourneur
standing with outstretched hand, and with his long white hair falling
over his thin livid face that was almost sublime in its calmness. I
divined at once the reason of this voluntary offer; I knew that it was
the father’s devotion in self-sacrifice that led him to undertake the
office.
“As soon as you please,” said the boatswain, and handed him the hat.
M. Letourneur proceeded to draw out the folded strips of paper one by
one, and after reading out aloud the name upon it, handed it to its
owner.
The first name called was that of Burke, who uttered a cry of delight;
then followed Flaypole and the boatswain. What his name really was I
never could exactly learn. Then came Falsten, Curtis, Sandon. More
than half had now been called, and my name had not yet been drawn. I
calculated my remaining chance; it was still four to one in my favour.
M. Letourneur continued his painful task. Since Burke’s first
exclamation of joy not a sound had escaped our lips, but all were
listening in breathless silence. The seventh name was Miss Herbey’s, but
the young girl heard it without a start. Then came mine, yes, mine! and
the ninth was that of Letourneur.
“Which one?” asked the boatswain.
“Andre,” said M. Letourneur.
With one cry Andre fell back senseless. Only two names now remained in
the hat; those of Dowlas and of M. Letourneur himself.
“Go on,” almost roared the carpenter, surveying his partner in peril as
though he could devour him. M. Letourneur almost had a smile upon
his lips, as he drew forth the last paper but one, and with a firm,
unfaltering voice, marvelous for his age, unfolded it slowly, and read
the name of Dowlas. The carpenter gave a yell of relief as he heard the
word.
M. Letourneur took the last bit of paper from the hat, and without
looking at it, tore it to pieces. But, unperceived by all but myself,
one little fragment flew into a corner of the raft. I crawled towards it
and picked it up. On one side of it was written Andr--; the rest of
the word was torn away. M. Letourneur saw what I had done, and rushing
towards me, snatched the paper from my hands, and flung it into the sea.
CHAPTER LIV.
JANUARY 26th.--I understood it all; the devoted father having nothing
more to give, had given his life for his son.
M. Letourneur was no longer a human being in the eyes of the famished
creatures who were now yearning to see him sacrificed to their cravings.
At the very sight of the victim thus provided, all the tortures of
hunger returned with redoubled violence. With lips distended, and teeth
displayed, they waited like a herd of carnivora until they could attack
their prey with brutal voracity; it seemed almost doubtful whether they
would not fall upon him while he was still alive. It seemed impossible
that any appeal to their humanity could, at such a moment, have any
weight; nevertheless, the appeal was made, and, incredible as it may
seem, prevailed.
Just as the boatswain was about to act the part of butcher, and Dowlas
stood, hatchet in hand, ready to complete the barbarous work, Miss
Herbey advanced, or rather crawled, towards them.
“My friends,” she pleaded, “will you not wait just one more day? If no
land or ship is in sight to-morrow, then I suppose our poor companion
must become your victim. But allow him one more day; in the name of
mercy I entreat, I implore you.”
My heart bounded as she made her pitiful appeal. It seemed to me as
though the noble girl had spoken with an inspiration on her lips, and I
fancied that, perhaps, in super-natural vision she had viewed the coast
or the ship of which she spoke; and one more day was not much to us who
had already suffered so long, and endured so much.
Curtis and Falsten agreed with me, and we all united to support Miss
Herbey’s merciful petition. The sailors did not utter a murmur, and the
boatswain in a smothered voice said,--
“Very well, we will wait till daybreak tomorrow,” and threw down his
hatchet.
To-morrow, then, unless land or a sail appear, the horrible sacrifice
will be accomplished. Stifling their sufferings by a strenuous effort,
all returned to their places. The sailors crouched beneath the sails,
caring nothing about scanning the ocean. Food was in store for them
to-morrow, and that was enough for them.
As soon as Andre Letourneur came to his senses, his first thought was
for his father, and I saw him count the passengers on the raft. He
looked puzzled; when he lost consciousness there had been only two
names left in the hat, those of his father and the carpenter; and yet M.
Letourneur and Dowlas were both there still. Miss Herbey went up to
him and told him quietly that the drawing of the lots had not yet been
finished. Andre asked no further question, but took his father’s
hand. M. Letourneur’s countenance was calm and serene; he seemed to be
conscious of nothing except that the life of his son was spared, and as
the two sat conversing in an undertone at the back of the raft, their
whole existence seemed bound up in each other.
Meantime, I could not disabuse my mind of the impression caused by Miss
Herbey’s intervention. Something told me that help was near at hand, and
that we were approaching the termination of our suspense and misery; the
chimeras that were floating through my brain resolved themselves into
realities, so that nothing appeared to me more certain than that either
land or sail, be they miles away, would be discovered somewhere to
leeward.
I imparted my convictions to M. Letourneur and his son. Andre was as
sanguine as myself; poor boy! he little thinks what a loss there is in
store for him tomorrow. His father listened gravely to all we said,
and whatever he might think in his own mind, he did not give us any
discouragement; Heaven, he said, he was sure would still spare the
survivors of the “Chancellor,” and then he lavished on his son caresses
which he deemed to be his last.
Some time afterwards, when I was alone with him, M. Letourneur whispered
in my ear,--
“Mr. Kazallon, I commend my boy to your care, and mark you, he must
never know--”
His voice was choked with tears, and he could not finish his sentence.
But I was full of hope, and, without a moment’s intermission, I kept my
eyes fixed upon the unbroken horizon, Curtis, Miss Herbey, Falsten, and
even the boatswain, were also eagerly scanning the broad expanse of sea.
Night has come on; but I have still a profound conviction that through
the darkness some ship will approach, and that at daybreak our raft will
be observed.
CHAPTER LV.
JANUARY 27th.--I did not close my eyes all night, and was keenly alive
to the faintest sounds, and every ripple of the water, and every murmur
of the waves, broke distinctly on my ear. One thing I noticed and
accepted as a happy omen; not a single shark now lingered-round the
raft. The waning moon rose at a quarter to one, and through the feeble
glimmer which she cast across the ocean, many and many a time I fancied
I caught sight of the longed-for sail, lying only a few cables’ lengths
away.
But when morning came, the sun rose once again upon a desert ocean, and
my hopes began to fade. Neither ship nor shore had appeared, and as the
shocking hour of execution drew near, my dreams of deliverance melted
away; I shuddered in my very soul as I was brought face to face with the
stern reality. I dared not look upon the victim, and whenever his eyes,
so full of calmness and resignation, met my own, I turned away my
head. I felt choked with horror, and my brain reeled as though I were
intoxicated.
It was now six o’clock, and all hope had vanished from my breast; my
heart beat rapidly, and a cold sweat of agony broke out all over me.
Curtis and the boatswain stood by the mast attentively scanning the
horizon. The boatswain’s countenance was terrible to look upon;
one could see that although he would not forestall the hour, he was
determined not to wait a moment after it arrived. As for the captain, it
was impossible to tell what really passed within his mind; his face was
livid, and his whole existence seemed concentrated in the exercise of
his power of vision. The sailors were crawling about the platform, with
their eyes gleaming, like wild beasts ready to pounce upon their devoted
prey.
I could no longer keep my place, and glided along to the front of the
raft. The boatswain was still standing intent on his watch, but all of a
sudden, in a voice that made me start he shouted,--
“Now then, time’s up!” and followed by Dowlas, Burke, Flaypole, and
Sandon, ran to the back of the raft. As Dowlas seized the hatchet
convulsively, Miss Herbey could not suppress a cry of terror. Andre
started to his feet.
“What are you going to do to my father?” he asked in accents choked with
emotion.
“My boy,” said M. Letourneur, “the lot has fallen upon me, and I must
die!”
“Never!” shrieked Andre, throwing his arms about his father, “They shall
kill me first. It was I who threw Hobart’s body into the sea, and it is
I who ought to die!”
But the words of the unhappy youth had no other effect than to increase
the fury of the men who were so staunchly bent upon their bloody
purpose.
“Come, come, no more fuss,” said Dowlas, as he tore the young man away
from his father’s embrace.
Andre fell upon his back, in which position two of the sailors held him
down so tightly that he could not move, whilst Burke and Sandon carried
off their victim to the front.
All this had taken place much more rapidly than I have been able to
describe it. I was transfixed with horror, and much as I wished to throw
myself between M. Letourneur and his executioners, I seemed to be rooted
to the spot where I was standing.
Meantime the sailors had been taking off some of M. Letourneur’s
clothes, and his neck and shoulders were already bare.
“Stop a moment!” he said in a tone in which was the ring of indomitable
courage. “Stop! I don’t want to deprive you of your ration; but I
suppose you will not require to eat the whole of me today.”
The sailors, taken aback by his suggestion, stared at him with
amazement.
“There are ten of you,” he went on. “My two arms will give you each a
meal; cut them off for to-day, and to-morrow you shall have the rest of
me.”
“Agreed!” cried Dowlas; and as M. Letourneur held out his bare arms,
quick as lightning the carpenter raised his hatchet.
Curtis and I could bear this scene no longer; whilst we were alive
to prevent it, this butchery should not be permitted, and we rushed
forwards simultaneously to snatch the victim from his murderers. A
furious struggle ensued, and in the midst of the MELEE I was seized by
one of the sailors, and hurled violently into the sea.
Closing my lips, I tried to die of suffocation in the water; but in
spite of myself, my mouth opened, and a few drops trickled down my
throat.
Merciful Heaven! the water was fresh!
CHAPTER LVI.
JANUARY 27th CONTINUED.--A change came over me as if by miracle. No
longer had I any wish to die, and already Curtis, who had heard my
cries, was throwing me a rope. I seized it eagerly, and was hauled up on
to the raft, “Fresh water!” were the first words I uttered.
“Fresh water?” cried Curtis, “why then, my friends, we are not far from
land!”
It was not too late; the blow had not been struck, and so the victim
had not yet fallen. Curtis and Andre (who had regained his liberty)
had fought with the cannibals, and it was just as they were yielding to
overpowering numbers that my voice had made itself heard.
The struggle came to an end. As soon as the words “Fresh water” had
escaped my lips, I leaned over the side of the raft and swallowed the
life-giving liquid in greedy draughts. Miss Herbey was the first to
follow my example, but soon Curtis, Falsten, and all the rest were on
their knees and drinking eagerly, The rough sailors seemed as if by a
magic touch transformed back from ravenous beasts to human beings, and
I saw several of them raise their hands to heaven in silent gratitude,
Andre and his father were the last to drink.
“But where are we?” I asked at length.
“The land is there,” said Curtis pointing towards the west.
We all stared at the captain as though he were mocking us; no land was
in sight, and the raft, just as ever, was the centre of a watery waste.
Yet our senses had not deceived us the water we had been drinking was
perfectly fresh.
“Yes,” repeated the captain, “land is certainly there, not more than
twenty miles to leeward.”
“What land?” inquired the boatswain.
“South America,” answered Curtis, “and near the Amazon; no other river
has a current strong enough to freshen the ocean twenty miles from
shore!”
CHAPTER LVII.
JANUARY 27th CONTINUED.--Curtis, no doubt was right The discharge from
the mouth of the Amazon is enormously large, but we had probably drifted
into the only spot in the Atlantic where we could find fresh water
so far from land. Yet land, undoubtedly was there, and the breeze was
carrying us onwards slowly but surely to our deliverance.
Miss Herbey’s voice was heard pouring out fervent praise to Heaven, and
we were all glad to unite our thanksgivings with hers. Then the whole
of us (with the exception of Andre and his father, who remained by
themselves together at the stern) clustered in a group, and kept our
expectant gaze upon the horizon.
We had not long to wait. Before an hour had passed Curtis, leaped in
ecstasy and raised the joyous shout of “Land ahoy!”
* * * *
My journal has come to a close.
I have only to relate, as briefly as possible, the circumstances that
finally brought us to our destination.
A few hours after we first sighted land the raft was off Cape Magoari,
on the Island of Marajo, and was observed by some fishermen who, with
kind-hearted alacrity picked us up, and tended us most carefully. They
conveyed us to Para, where we became the objects of unbounded sympathy.
The raft was brought to land in lat. 0deg. 12min. N., so that since we
abandoned the “Chancellor” we had drifted at least fifteen degrees to
the south-west. Except for the influence of the Gulf Stream we must have
been carried far, far to the south, and in that case we should never
have reached the mouth of the Amazon, and must inevitably have been
lost.
Of the thirty-two souls--nine passengers, and twenty-three seamen--who
left Charleston on board the ship, only five passengers and six seamen
remain. Eleven of us alone survive.
An official account of our rescue was drawn up by the Brazilian
authorities. Those who signed were Miss Herbey, J. R. Kazallon, M.
Letourneur, Andre Letourneur, Mr. Falsten, the boatswain, Dowlas, Burke,
Flaypole, Sandon, and last, though not least,
“Robert Curtis, captain.”
At Para we soon found facilities for continuing our homeward route. A
vessel took us to Cayenne, where we secured a passage on board one of
the steamers of the French Transatlantic Aspinwall line, the “Ville de
St. Nazaire,” which conveyed us to Europe.
After all the dangers and privations which we have undergone together,
it is scarcely necessary to say that there has arisen between the
surviving passengers of the “Chancellor” a bond of friendship too
indissoluble, I believe, for either time or circumstance to destroy;
Curtis must ever remain the honoured and valued friend of those whose
welfare he consulted so faithfully in their misfortunes; his conduct was
beyond all praise.
When we were fairly on our homeward way, Miss Herbey by chance intimated
to us her intention of retiring from the world and devoting the
remainder of her life to the care of the sick and suffering.
“Then why not come and look after my son?” said M. Letourneur, adding,
“he is an invalid, and he requires, as he deserves, the best of
nursing.”
Miss Herbey, after some deliberation, consented to become a member
of their family, and finds in M. Letourneur a father, and in Andre a
brother. A brother, I say; but may we not hope that she may be united
by a dearer and a closer tie, and that the noble-hearted girl may
experience the happiness that so richly she deserves?
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