“We will not despair yet,” I said; “perhaps some passing 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, lowering 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 today; 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 temptation 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 latitudes, 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. Instantly 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.