JANUARY 11 to 14.—Owen's convulsions returned with increased violence, and in the course of the night he expired in terrible agony. His body was thrown overboard almost directly, it had decomposed1 so rapidly that the flesh had not even consistency2 enough for any fragments of it to be reserved for the boatswain to use to bait his lines. A plague the man had been to us in his life; in his death he was now of no service!
And now, perhaps still more than ever, did the horror of our situation stare us in the face. There was no doubt that the poisoned barrel had at some time or other contained copperas; but what strange fatality3 had converted it into a water cask, or what fatality, stranger still, had caused it to be brought on board the raft, was a problem that none could solve. Little, however, did it matter now; the fact was evident—the barrel was poisoned, and of water we had not a drop.
One and all, we fell into the gloomiest silence. We were too irritable4 to bear the sound of each other's voices; and it did not require a word—a mere5 look or gesture was enough—to provoke us to anger that was little short of madness. How it was that we did not all become raving6 maniacs7, I cannot tell.
Throughout the 12th no drain of moisture crossed our lips, and not a cloud arose to warrant the expectation of a passing shower; in the shade, if shade it might be called, the thermometer would have registered at least 100 deg., and perhaps considerably8 more.
No change next day. The salt water began to chafe9 my legs, but although the smarting was at times severe, it was an inconvenience to which I gave little heed10; others who had suffered from the same trouble had become no worse. Oh! if this water that surrounds us could be reduced to vapor11 or to ice! its particles of salt extracted, it would be available for drink. But no! we have no appliances, and we must suffer on.
At the risk of being devoured12 by the sharks, the boatswain and two sailors took a morning bath, and as their plunge13 seemed to freshen them, I and three of my companions resolved to follow their example. We had never learned to swim, and had to be fastened to the end of a rope and lowered into the water, while Curtis, during the half hour of our bath, kept a sharp lookout14 to give warning of any danger from approaching sharks. No recommendation, however, on our part, nor any representation of the benefit we felt we had derived15, could induce Miss Herbey to allay16 her sufferings in the same way.
At about eleven o'clock, the captain came up to me, and whispered in my ear:
"Don't say a word, Mr. Kazallon; I do not want to raise false hopes, but I think I see a ship."
It was as well that the captain had warned me; otherwise, I should have raised an involuntary shout of joy; as it was I had the greatest difficulty in restraining my expressions of delight.
"Look behind to larboard," he continued in an undertone.
Affecting an indifference17 which I was far from feeling, I cast an anxious glance to that quarter of the horizon of which he spoke18, and there, although mine was not a nautical19 eye, I could plainly distinguish the outline of a ship under sail.
Almost at the same moment the boatswain who happened to be looking in the same direction, raised the cry, "Ship ahoy!"
Whether it was that no one believed it, or whether all energies were exhausted20, certain it is that the announcement produced none of the effects that might have been expected. Not a soul exhibited the slightest emotion, and it was only when the boatswain had several times sung out his tidings that all eyes turned to the horizon. There, most undeniably, was the ship, but the question rose at once to the minds of all, and to the lips of many, "Would she see us?"
The sailors immediately began discussing the build of the vessel21, and made all sorts of conjectures22 as to the direction she was taking. Curtis was far more deliberate in his judgment23. After examining her attentively24 for some time, he said, "She is a brig running close upon the wind, on the starboard tack<............