The Survivors of the Chancellor (20 page)

"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 endeavoring 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 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 carcass 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.

JANUARY 20 to 22. — 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.

JANUARY 23. — 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 northeast. 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
among 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
anyone 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 tongues and swollen lips can pronounce
are almost unintelligible. Wasted and bloodless, we are no
longer human beings; we are specters.

JANUARY 24. — 1 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 westward, that is to say, toward 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
labors 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 not 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. Someone
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, whiskey, and, above all, water!
Stumbling at every step, and singing in a cracked, discordant
voice, he staggered about among 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.

JANUARY 25. — 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.

Toward morning I woke from my sleep, if the languid
stupor 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 gray fog still hung heavily over the ocean, but
the sun was evidently shining above the mist, and would, in
course of time, dispel the vapor. Toward 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.