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Lao Tze - "Tao Teh King, by Lao Tze"

Sir Walter Scott - "The Tapestried Chamber, by Sir Walter Scott"

Henry van Dyke - "The Mansion"

and Stephen Braxton - "Seven Men"

The Survivors of the Chancellor

J >> Jules Verne >> The Survivors of the Chancellor




"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. Toward 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 3d 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 swim-
ming 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. Dow-
las 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 excru-
ciating 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
meager ration which a few days back we deemed so inade-
quate 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 has carried into the interstices has
been scraped out and devoured, our resources are literally
at an end.

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

At six o'clock this morning I was roused by the sound
of angry voices, and, starting up, I saw Owen and
Jynxstrop, with Flaypole, Wilson, Burke, and Sandon,
standing in a threatening attitude. They had taken posses-
sion 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 ex-
ample, 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 toward us. The miserable
wretches were all drunk, for during the night they had
knocked a hole in the brandy-barrel, and had recklessly swal-
lowed its contents. What they wanted they scarcely seemed
to know, but Owen and Jynxstrop, not quite so much intox-
icated 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 spar; Burke
and Flaypole rushed upon Falsten and the boatswain, while
I was left to confront the negro Jynxstrop, who attempted to
strike me with the hammer which he brandished in his hand.
I endeavored to paralyze his movements by pinioning his
arms, but the rascal was my superior in muscular strength.
After wrestling for a few minutes, 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 Letour-
neur had caught hold of one of his legs, and thus saved my
life. Jynxstrop 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 Owen.
But Owen made a sidelong movement to avoid the blow, and
the weapon caught Wilson full in the chest. The unfor-
tunate man rolled over the side of the raft and instantly dis-
appeared.

"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. Flay-
pole and Burke were lying prostrate in a drunken stupor, and
Jynxstrop was soon overpowered, and lashed tightly to the
foot of the mast. The carpenter and 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.


CHAPTER XXXIX
A FATHER'S LOVE

JANUARY 5 and 6. -- The whole scene made a deep impres-
sion on our minds, and Owen's speech coming as a sort of
climax, brought before us our misery with a force that was
well-nigh overwhelming.

As soon as I recovered my composure, I did not forget to
thank Andre Letourneur for the act of intervention that
had saved my life.

"Do you thank me for that, Mr. Kazallon?" he said; "it
has only served to prolong your misery."

"Never mind, M. Letourneur," said Miss Herbey; "you
did your duty."

Enfeebled and emaciated as the young girl is, her sense
of duty never deserts her; and although her torn and be-
draggled garments float dejectedly about her body, she never
utters a word of complaint, and never loses courage.

"Mr. Kazallon," she said to me, "do you think we are
fated to die of hunger?"

"Yes, Miss Herbey, I do," I replied, in a hard, cold tone.

"How long do you suppose we have to live?" she asked
again.

"I cannot say; perhaps we shall linger on longer than we
imagine."

"The strongest constitutions suffer the most, do they
not?" she said.

"Yes; but they have one consolation -- they die the soon-
est," I replied, coldly.

Had every spark of humanity died out of my breast, that
I thus brought the girl face to face with the terrible truth,
without a word of hope or comfort? The eyes of Andre
and his father, dilated with hunger, were fixed upon me, and
I saw reproach and astonishment written in their faces.

Afterward, when we were quite alone, Miss Herbey asked
me if I would grant her a favor.

"Certainly, Miss Herbey; anything you like to ask," I
replied; and this time my manner was kinder and more
genial.

"Mr. Kazallon," she said, "I am weaker than you, and
shall probably die first. Promise me that, if I do, you will
throw me into the sea!"

"Oh, Miss Herbey," I began, "it was very wrong of me
to speak to you as I did!"

"No, no," she replied, half smiling; "you were quite
right. But it is a weakness of mine; I don't mind what they
do with me as long as I am alive, but when I am dead --"
She stopped and shuddered. "Oh, promise me that you will
throw me into the sea!"

I gave her the melancholy promise, which she acknowl-
edged by pressing my hand feebly with her emaciated fingers.

Another night passed away. At times my sufferings were
so intense that cries of agony involuntarily escaped my lips;
then I became calmer, and sank into a kind of lethargy.
When I awoke, I was surprised to find my companions still
alive.

The one of our party who seems to bear his privations
the best is Hobart the steward, a man with whom hitherto
I have had very little to do. He is small, with a fawning
expression remarkable for its indecision, and has a smile
which is incessantly playing round his lips; he goes about
with his eyes half closed, as though he wished to conceal his
thoughts, and there is something altogether false and
hypocritical about his whole demeanor. I cannot say that
he bears his privations without a murmur, for he sighs and
moans incessantly; but, with it all, I cannot but think that
there is a want of genuineness in his manner, and that the
privation has not really told upon him as much as it has
upon the rest of us. I have my suspicions about the man,
and intend to watch him carefully.

To-day, the 6th, M. Letourneur drew me aside to the stern
of the raft, saying he had a secret to communicate, but that
he wished neither to be seen nor heard speaking to me. I
withdrew with him to the larboard corner of the raft, and, as
it was growing dusk, nobody observed what we were doing.

"Mr. Kazallon," M. Letourneur began, in a low voice,
"Andre is dying of hunger; he is growing weaker and
weaker, and oh! I cannot, will not, see him die!"

He spoke passionately, almost fiercely, and I fully under-
stood his feelings. Taking his hand, I tried to reassure him.

"We will not despair yet," I said; "perhaps some pass-
ing ship --"

"Ship!" he cried, impatiently, "don't try to console me
with empty commonplaces; you know as well as I do that
there is no chance of falling in with a passing ship." Then,
breaking off suddenly, he asked: "How long is it since my
son and all of you have had anything to eat?"

Astonished at his question, I replied that it was now four
days since the biscuit had failed.

"Four days," he repeated; "well, then, it is eight since I
have tasted anything. I have been saving my share for my
son."

Tears rushed to my eyes; for a few moments I was unable
to speak, and could only once more grasp his hand in silence.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, at length.

"Hush! not so loud; someone will hear us," he said, low-
ering his voice; "I want you to offer it to Andre as though
it came from yourself. He would not accept it from me; he
would think I had been depriving myself for him. Let me
implore you to do me this service; and for your trouble," --
and here he gently stroked my hand -- "for your trouble you
shall have a morsel for yourself."

I trembled like a child as I listened to the poor father's
words; and my heart was ready to burst when I felt a tiny
piece of biscuit slipped into my hand.

"Give it him," M. Letourneur went on under his breath,
"give it him; but do not let anyone see you; the monsters
would murder you if they knew it! This is only for to-
day; I will give you some more to-morrow."

The poor fellow did not trust me -- and well he might not
-- for I had the greatest difficulty to withstand the tempta-
tion to carry the biscuit to my mouth. But I resisted the
impulse, and those alone who have suffered like me can know
what the effort was.

Night came on with the rapidity peculiar to these low lati-
tudes, and I glided gently up to Andre, and slipped the piece
of biscuit into his hand as "a present from myself."

The young man clutched at it eagerly.

"But my father?" he said, inquiringly.

I assured him that his father and I had each had our
share, and that he must eat this now, and perhaps I should
be able to bring him some more another time. Andre asked
no more questions, and eagerly devoured the morsel of food.

So this evening at least, notwithstanding M. Letourneur's
offer, I have tasted nothing.


CHAPTER XL
DEATH OF LIEUTENANT WALTER

JANUARY 7. -- During the last few days, since the wind
has freshened, the salt water constantly dashing over the
raft has terribly punished the feet and legs of some of the
sailors. Owen, whom the boatswain ever since the revolt has
kept bound to the mast, is in a deplorable state, and, at our
request, has been released from his restraint. Sandon and
Burke are also suffering from the severe smarting caused in
this way, and it is only owing to our more sheltered position
on the aft-part of the raft, that we have not all shared the
same inconvenience.

To-day the boatswain, maddened by starvation, laid hands
upon everything that met his voracious eyes, and I could
hear the grating of his teeth as he gnawed at fragments of
sails and bits of wood, instinctively endeavoring to fill his
stomach by putting the mucus into circulation. At length,
by dint of an eager search, he came upon a piece of leather
hanging to one of the spars that supported the platform.
He snatched it off and devoured it greedily; and, as it was
animal matter, it really seemed as though the absorption of
the substance afforded him some temporary relief. In-
stantly we all followed his example; a leather hat, the rims
of caps, in short, anything that contained any animal matter
at all, were gnawed and sucked with the utmost avidity.
Never shall I forget the scene. We were no longer human
-- the impulses and instincts of brute beasts seemed to
actuate our every movement.

For a moment the pangs of hunger were somewhat
allayed; but some of us revolted against the loathsome food,
and were seized either with violent nausea or absolute sick-
ness. I must be pardoned for giving these distressing de-
tails; but how otherwise can I depict the misery, moral and
physical, which we are enduring? And with it all, I dare
not venture to hope that we have reached the climax of our
sufferings.

The conduct of Hobart, during the scene that I have just
described, has only served to confirm my previous suspicions
of him. He took no part in the almost fiendish energy with
which we gnawed at our scraps of leather; and, although by
his conduct of perpetual groanings, he might be considered
to be dying of inanition, yet to me he has the appearance
of being singularly exempt from the tortures which we are
all enduring. But whether the hypocrite is being sustained
by some secret store of food, I have been unable to discover.

Whenever the breeze drops the heat is overpowering; but
although our allowance of water is very meager, at present
the pangs of hunger far exceed the pain of thirst. It has
often been remarked that extreme thirst is far less endurable
than extreme hunger. Is it possible that still greater agonies
are in store for us? I cannot, dare not, believe it. For-
tunately, the broken barrel still contains a few pints of water,
and the other one has not yet been opened. But I am glad
to say that notwithstanding our diminished numbers, and in
spite of some opposition, the captain has thought right to
reduce the daily allowance to half a pint for each person.
As for the brandy, of which there is only a quart now left,
it has been stowed away safely in the stern of the raft.

This evening has ended the sufferings of another of our
companions, making our number now only fourteen. My
attentions and Miss Herbey's nursing could do nothing for
Lieutenant Walter, and about half-past seven he expired in
my arms.

Before he died, in a few broken words, he thanked Miss
Herbey and myself for the kindness we had shown him. A
crumpled letter fell from his hand, and in a voice that was
scarcely audible from weakness, he said :

"It is my mother's letter; the last I had from her -- she
was expecting me home; but she will never see me more.
Oh, put it to my lips -- let me kiss it before I die. Mother!
mother! Oh, my God!"

I placed the letter in his cold hand, and raised it to his
lips; his eye lighted for a moment; we heard the faint sound
of a kiss; and all was over!


CHAPTER XLI
HUMAN FLESH FOR BAIT

JANUARY 8. -- All night I remained by the side of the poor
fellow's corpse, and several times Miss Herbey joined me
in my mournful watch.

Before daylight dawned, the body was quite cold, and as
I knew there must be no delay in throwing it overboard, I
asked Curtis to assist me in the sad office. The body was
frightfully emaciated, and I had every hope that it would not
float.

As soon as it was quite light, taking every precaution that
no one should see what we were about, Curtis and I pro-
ceeded to our melancholy task. We took a few articles from
the lieutenant's pockets, which we purposed, if either of us
should survive, to remit to his mother. But as we wrapped
him in his tattered garments that would have to suffice for
his winding sheet, I started back with a thrill of horror. The
right foot had gone, leaving the leg a bleeding stump.

No doubt that, overcome by fatigue, I must have fallen
asleep for an interval during the night, and some one had
taken advantage of my slumber to mutilate the corpse. But
who could have been guilty of so foul a deed? Curtis
looked around with anger flashing in his eye; but all seemed
as usual, and the silence was only broken by a few groans of
agony.

But there was no time to be lost; perhaps we were already
observed, and more horrible scenes might be likely to occur.
Curtis said a few short prayers, and we cast the body into the
sea. It sank immediately.

"They are feeding the sharks well, and no mistake," said
a voice behind me.

I turned round quickly, and found that it was Jynxstrop
who had spoken.

As the boatswain now approached, I asked him whether
he thought it possible that any of the wretched men could
have taken the dead man's foot.

"Oh, yes, I dare say," he replied in a significant tone,
"and perhaps they thought they were right."

"Right! what do you mean?" I exclaimed.

"Well, sir," he said coldly, "isn't it better to eat a dead
man than a living one?"

I was at a loss to comprehend him, and, turning away, laid
myself down at the end of the raft.

Toward eleven o'clock a most suspicious incident occurred.
The boatswain, who had cast his lines early in the morning,
caught three large cod, each more than thirty inches long, of
the species which, when dried, is known by the name of
stock-fish. Scarcely had he hauled them on board when the
sailors made a dash at them, and it was with the utmost dif-
ficulty that Curtis, Falsten and myself could restore order, so
that we might divide the fish into equal portions. Three
cod were not much among fourteen starving persons, but,
small as the quantity was, it was allotted in strictly equal
shares. Most of us devoured the food raw, almost I might
say, alive; only Curtis, Andre, and Miss Herbey having the
patience to wait until their allowance had been boiled at a
fire which they made with a few scraps of wood. For my-
self, I confess that I swallowed my portion of fish as it was
-- raw and bleeding. M. Letourneur followed my example;
the poor man devoured his food like a famished wolf, and it
is only a wonder to me how, after his lengthened fast, he
came to be alive at all.

The boatswain's delight at his success was excessive, and
amounted almost to delirium. I went up to him, and en-
couraged him to repeat his attempt.

"Oh, yes," he said; "I'll try again. I'll try again."

"And why not try at once?" I asked.

"Not now," he said evasively; "the night is the best time
for catching large fish. Besides, I must manage to get
some bait, for we have been improvident enough not to save
a single scrap."

"But you have succeeded once without bait; why may you
not succeed again?"

"Oh, I had some very good bait last night," he said.

I stared at him in amazement. He steadily returned my
gaze, but said nothing.

"Have you none left?" at last I asked.

"Yes!" he almost whispered, and left me without another
word.

Our meal, meager as it had been, served to rally our shat-
tered energies; our hopes were slightly raised; there was no
reason why the boatswain should not have the same good
luck again.

One evidence of the degree to which our spirits were re-
vived was that our minds were no longer fixed upon the
miserable present and hopeless future, but we began to recall
and discuss the past; and M. Letourneur, Andre, Mr. Fal-
sten and I, held a long conversation with the captain about
the various incidents of our eventful voyage, speaking of
our lost companions, of the fire, or the stranding of the ship,
of our sojourn on Ham Rock, of the springing of the leak, of
our terrible voyage in the top-masts, of the construction of
the raft, and of the storm. All these things seemed to have
happened so long ago, and yet we were living still. Living,
did I say? Ay, if such an existence as ours could be called
a life, fourteen of us were living still. Who would be the
next to go? We should then be thirteen.

"An unlucky number!" said Andre, with a mournful
smile.

During the night the boatswain cast his lines from the
stern of the raft, and, unwilling to trust them to anyone
else, remained watching them himself. In the morning I
went to ascertain what success had attended his patience. It
was scarcely light, and with eager eyes he was peering down
into the water. He had neither seen nor heard me coming.

"Well, boatswain!" I said, touching him on the shoulder.

He turned round quickly.

"Those villainous sharks have eaten every morsel of my
bait," he said, in a desponding voice.

"And you have no more left?" I asked.

"No more," he said. Then grasping my arm, he added,
"and that only shows me that it is no good doing things by
halves."

The truth flashed upon me at once, and I laid my hand
upon his mouth. Poor Walter!


CHAPTER XLII
OXIDE OF COPPER POISONING

JANUARY 9 and10. -- On the 9th the wind dropped, and
there was a dead calm; not a ripple disturbed the surface of
the long undulations as they rose and fell beneath us; and if
it were not for the slight current which is carrying us we
know not whither, the raft would be absolutely stationary.

The heat was intolerable; our thirst more intolerable still;
and now it was that for the first time I fully realized how the
insufficiency of drink could cause torture more unendurable
than the pangs of hunger. Mouth, throat, pharynx, all alike
were parched and dry, every gland becoming hard as horn
under the action of the hot air we breathed. At my urgent
solicitation, the captain was for once induced to double our
allowance of water; and this relaxation of the ordinary rule
enabled us to attempt to slake our thirst four times in the day,
instead of only twice. I use the word "attempt" advisedly;
for the water at the bottom of the barrel though kept covered
by a sail, became so warm that it was perfectly flat and
unrefreshing.

It was a most trying day, and the sailors relapsed into a
condition of deep despondency. The moon was nearly full,
but when she rose the breeze did not return. Continuance
of high temperature in daytime is a sure proof that we have
been carried far to the south, and here, on this illimitable
ocean, we have long ceased even to look for land; it might
almost seem as though this globe of ours had veritably be-
come a liquid sphere!

To-day we are still becalmed, and the temperature is as
high as ever. The air is heated like a furnace, and the sun
scorches like fire. The torments of famine are all forgotten;
our thoughts are concentrated with fevered expectation upon
the longed-for moment when Curtis shall dole out the scanty
measure of lukewarm water that makes up our ration. Oh
for one good draught, even if it should exhaust the whole
supply! At least, it seems as if we then could die in peace!

About noon we were startled by sharp cries of agony,
and looking round, I saw Owen writhing in the most horrible
convulsions. I went toward him, for, detestable as his con-
duct had been, common humanity prompted me to see
whether I could afford him any relief. But before I reached
him, a shout from Flaypole arrested my attention. The
man was up in the mast, and with great excitement pointing
to the east.

"A ship! A ship!" he cried.

In an instant all were on their feet. Even Owen stopped
his cries and stood erect. It was quite true that in the direc-
tion indicated by Flaypole there was a white speck visible
upon the horizon. But did it move? Would the sailors
with their keen vision pronounce it to be a sail? A silence
the most profound fell upon us all. I glanced at Curtis as
he stood with folded arms intently gazing at the distant
point. His brow was furrowed, and he contracted every fea-
ture, as with half-closed eyes he concentrated his power of
vision upon that one faint spot in the far off horizon.

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