An awful alternative it was, and for a long while the ill-starred
victims seemed to linger in their choice. Hard choice between two
horrid forms of death! Little did it matter which, and the knowledge of
this rendered them indifferent whether to spring forth or stand still.
Death was before them as well as behind--turn which way they might,
death stared them in the face--soon and certain--and on every side they
saw its threatening arm--before, behind, above, and around them. The
utter hopelessness of escape had numbed their energies--they were
paralysed by despair.
But even in the hour of the most hopeless despair there arrives a crisis
when men will still struggle for life--it is the last struggle--the
final conflict as it were, with death itself. No one yields up life
without this effort, though it be ever so idle. The drowning man does
not voluntarily permit himself to sink below the surface. He still
strives to keep afloat, though he may not have the slightest hope of
being rescued. The effort is partly involuntary--it is the body that
still continues to battle for life, after the mind has resigned all
hope--the last stand that existence makes against annihilation. It may
be a purely mechanical effort--perhaps it is so--but who ever saw a
strong man compelled to part suddenly with life, that did not make such
a struggle? Even the condemned criminal upon the gallows continues to
strive till the breath has parted from his body. Something like this
last despairing effort aroused the energies of that hesitating crowd
that clustered upon the burning barque. The crisis at length came.
The flames were fast rushing forward, and spreading over all the deck.
Their red jets, spurting out beyond the selvage of smoke, began to touch
the bodies of their victims, and pain them with the fierce sting of
fire. It produced no augmentation in their cries of agony. These had
long since reached the climax, and the voices of those who uttered them
had been already raised to their highest pitch. But the close proximity
of the flames, and the absolute certainty of being now destroyed by
them, caused a general movement throughout the living mass; and, as if
actuated by an universal impulse, or guided by one common instinct, all
were seen making a sudden descent upon the water.
Those who had been hitherto standing along the side were not the first
to leap. It was they who were farther back, and of course nearer to the
flames, who first took to the water; and these, rushing over the
bulwarks--and even stepping upon the shoulders of those who were
clustered there--without further hesitation flung themselves headlong
into the sea. But the impulse seemed to communicate itself to the
others, and almost instantaneously--as if some one had proclaimed a way
to safety and was leading them on to it--the whole crowd followed the
foremost and went plunging into the water. In a few seconds not an
individual could be seen--of all that dark swarm that had so lately
crowded the fore-part of the vessel, not one was now visible on board.
Simultaneously had they deserted the burning wreck!
A wild scene was now presented in the water. The whole surface was
thick with human forms, plunging and struggling together. Some were
evidently unable to swim, and, with their bodies half erect, were
tossing their arms about in vain efforts to keep above the surface.
Here and there several clung together, until two or three--or in some
instances larger groups--dragged one another below, and sank to the
bottom together. Strong swimmers were observed separating from the
rest, and forging out into the open water. Of these the heads only
could be seen, and rapidly closing upon them the dark vertical fin that
told the presence of the pursuing shark.
Then could be heard the wild, despairing cry--then could be seen the
quick rush of the monster upon his prey--the water lashed by his tail--
the foam thrown up, already tinged with the blood of the victim--and,
after that, the surface returning to its level--the eddies and red
frothing bubbles alone marking for a few moments the scene of each
tragical crisis.
Oh! it was an awful spectacle to look upon--this wholesale ravening of
sharks--and even those who were upon the raft, with all their inhumanity
and heartless cruelty of disposition could not behold it without
emotion.
It was scarce an emotion of pity, however. Perhaps of all, Brace and I
were the only ones who felt pity. Some were indifferent, but the
majority of them--although a little awed by the tragical scene--were
actually glad at beholding it! It may be wrong of me to say they were
glad--what I mean is, that they felt a secret satisfaction at what was
going on--springing not from pure wanton cruelty of heart, but rather
from an instinct of self-preservation. Hitherto, these men had been in
great dread of the blacks overtaking the raft--they were not yet free
from the fear--and, of course, with this in their minds, they regarded
with satisfaction the wholesale ravage that the sharks were committing.
By this their own danger was every moment diminished--hence it is that
they were gratified at the hideous spectacle.
But numerous as were the sharks, there were not enough of them to make
total destruction of that vast crowd of human beings. After the first
general attack the ravenous brutes appeared to become scarcer and
scarcer, until but one here and one there, could be seen rushing upon
their prey. The greater number, having already secured a victim, were
satisfied and perhaps had gone down to their haunts in the darker deep--
while hundreds of human heads were still observable above the surface of
the water.
The flames, still flaring brilliantly, illumined the sea as if the day
was shining upon it; and it could be observed that the faces of the
survivors were all turned in the direction of the raft, towards which
they were swimming with all their strength.
Once more the sailors became inspired with apprehension--once more they
dreaded that their last hour was come, and that they themselves might
soon be struggling among the sharks.