Chapter 52

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 Jynxtrop 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.