Chapter 38

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

JANUARY 1st to 5th.--More than three months had elapsed since we
left Charleston in the "Chancellor," and for no less than twenty
days had we now been borne along on our raft at the mercy of the
wind and waves.  Whether we were approaching the American coast,
or whether we were drifting farther and farther to sea, it was
now impossible to determine, for, in addition to the other
disasters caused by the hurricane, the captain's instruments had
been hopelessly smashed, and Curtis had no longer any compass by
which to direct his course, nor a sextant by which he might make
an observation.

Desperate, however, as our condition might be judged, hope did
not entirely abandon our hearts, and day after day, hour after
hour were our eyes strained towards the horizon, and many and
many a time did our imagination shape out the distant land.  But
ever and again the illusion vanished; a cloud, a mist, perhaps
even a wave, was all that had deceived us; no land, no sail ever
broke the grey line that united sea and sky, and our raft
remained the centre of the wide and dreary waste.

On the 1st of January we swallowed our last morsel of biscuit.
The 1st of January!  New Year's Day!  What a rush of sorrowful
recollections overwhelmed our minds!  Had we not always
associated the opening of another year with new hopes, new plans,
and coming joys?  And now, where were we?  Could we dare to look
at one another, and breathe a new year's greeting?

The boatswain approached me with a peculiar look on his
countenance.

"You are surely not going to wish me a happy new year?"  I said.

"No indeed, sir," he replied, "I was only going to wish you well
through the first day of it; and that is pretty good assurance on
my part, for we have not another crumb to eat."

True as it was, we scarcely realized the fact of there being
actually nothing until on the following morning the hour came
round for the distribution of the scanty ration, and then,
indeed, the truth was forced upon us in a new and startling
light.  Towards evening I was seized with violent pains in the
stomach, accompanied by a constant desire to yawn and gape that
was most distressing; but in a couple of hours the extreme agony
passed away, and on the 3rd I was surprised to find that I did
not suffer more.  I felt, it is true, that there was some great
void within myself, but the sensation was quite as much moral as
physical.  My head was so heavy that I could not hold it up; it
was swimming with giddiness, as though I were looking over a
precipice.

My symptoms were not shared by all my companions, some of whom
endured the most frightful tortures.  Dowlas and the boatswain
especially, who were naturally large eaters, uttered involuntary
cries of agony, and were obliged to gird themselves tightly with
ropes to subdue the excruciating pain that was gnawing their
very vitals.

And this was only the second day of our misery!  what would we
not have given for half, nay, for a quarter of the meagre ration
which a few days back we had deemed so inadequate to supply our
wants, and which now, eked out crumb by crumb, might, perhaps,
serve for several days?  In the streets of a besieged city, dire
as the distress may be, some gutter, some rubbish-heap, some
corner may yet be found that will furnish a dry bone or a scrap
of refuse that may for a moment allay the pangs of hunger; but
these bare planks, so many times washed clean by the relentless
waves, offer nothing to our eager search, and after every
fragment of food that the wind carried into their interstices has
been scraped out devoured, our resources are literary at an end.

The nights seem even longer than the days.  Sleep, when it comes,
brings no relief; it is rather a feverish stupour, broken and
disturbed by frightful nightmares.  Last night, however, overcome
by fatigue, I managed to rest for several hours.

At six o'clock this morning I was roused by the sound of angry
voices, and, starting up, I saw Owen and Jynxtrop, with Flaypole,
Wilson, Burke, and Sandon, standing in a threatening attitude.
They had taken possession of the carpenter's tools, and now,
armed with hatchets, chisels, and hammers, they were preparing to
attack the captain, the boatswain, and Dowlas.  I attached myself
in a moment to Curtis's party.  Falsten followed my example, and
although our knives were the only weapons at our disposal, we
were ready to defend ourselves to the very last extremity.

Owen and his men advanced towards us.  The miserable wretches
were all drunk, for during the night they had knocked a hole in
the brandy-barrel, and had recklessly swallowed its contents.
What they wanted they scarcely seemed to know, but Owen and
Jynxtrop, not quite so much intoxicated as the rest; seemed to be
urging them on to massacre the captain and the officers.

"Down with the captain!  Overboard with Curtis!  Owen shall take
the command!"  they shouted from time to time in their drunken
fury; and, armed as they were, they appeared completely masters
of the situation.

"Now, then, down with your arms!"  said Curtis sternly, as he
advanced to meet them.

"Overboard with the captain!"  howled Owen, as by word and
gesture he urged on his accomplices.

Curtis' pushed aside the excited rascals, and, walking straight
up to Owen, asked him what he wanted.

"What do we want?  Why, we want no more captains; we are all
equals now."

Poor stupid fool!  as though misery and privation had not already
reduced us all to the same level.

"Owen," said the captain once, again, "down with your arms!"

"Come on, all,of you," shouted Owen to his companions, without
giving the slightest heed to Curtis's words.

A regular struggle ensued.  Owen and Wilson attacked Curtis, who
defended himself with a piece of a spar; Burke and Flaypole
rushed upon Falsten and the boatswain, whilst I was left to
confront the negro Jynxtrop, who attempted to strike me with the
hammer which he brandished in his hand.  I endeavoured to
paralyze his movements by pinioning his arms, but the rascal was
my superior in muscular strength.  After wrestling for a few
moments, I felt that he was getting the mastery over me when all
of a sudden he rolled over on to the platform, dragging me with
him.  Andre Letourneur had caught hold of one of his legs, and
thus saved my life.  Jynxtrop dropped his weapon in his fall; I
seized it instantly, and was about to cleave the fellow's skull,
when I was myself arrested by Andre's hand upon my arm.

By this time the mutineers had been driven back to the forepart
of the raft, and Curtis, who had managed to parry the blows which
had been aimed at him, had caught hold of a hatchet, with which
he was preparing to strike at Owen.  But Owen made a sidelong
movement to avoid the blow, and the weapon caught Wilson full in
the chest.  The unfortunate man rolled over the side of the raft
and instantly disappeared.

"Save him!  save him!"  shouted the boatswain.

"It's too late; he's dead!"  said Dowlas.

"Ah, well!  he'll do for--" began the boatswain; but he did not
finish his sentence.

Wilson's death, however, put an end to the fray.  Flaypole and
Burke were lying prostrate in a drunken stupour, and Jynxtrop was
soon overpowered, and lashed tightly to the foot of the mast.
The carpenter and the boatswain seized hold of Owen.

"Now then," said Curtis, as he raised his blood-stained hatchet,
"make your peace with God, for you have not a moment to live."

"Oh, you want to eat me, do you?"  sneered Owen, with the most
hardened effrontery.

But the audacious reply saved his life; Curtis turned as pale as
death, the hatchet dropped from his hand, and he went and seated
himself moodily on the farthest corner of the raft.