The breeze died away before the morning, and when day broke there was
not a breath stirring. The calm had returned, and the raft lay upon the
water as motionless as a log.
The men no longer tried to propel it; it could have served no purpose to
make way--since, go in what direction we might, there would be hundreds
of miles of the ocean to be crossed, and to sail a raft over that long
distance was not to be thought of.
Had there been a stock of provisions and water, sufficient to have
lasted for weeks, then such an idea would have been more feasible; but
there was nothing of this, and the idea of sailing in search of land was
not entertained for a moment. The only hope was that a sail might
appear in sight, that some ship might be passing across the ocean, and
come sufficiently near to see us and pick us up. One and all were
agreed that this was our only chance of being saved.
A cheerless chance it appeared when examined in all its bearings; so
cheerless, indeed, that only the most sanguine of the party drew any
hope from it. Notwithstanding the hundreds of thousands of ships that
are constantly ploughing the mighty deep, and sailing from port to port,
you will meet with but a very few of them on any long voyage you may
make. You may go from England to the Cape of Good Hope, without seeing
more than one or two sail during the whole passage! and yet that would
be travelling upon one of the great highways of the ocean--in the track
of all the ships sailing to the vast world of the East Indies, and also
to those prosperous commercial colonies of Australia, whose mercantile
marine almost rivals that of England herself. Again, you may cross the
Atlantic upon another great water-way--that between Liverpool and New
York--and yet between one port and the other, you may see less than
half-a-dozen sail, and sometimes only two or three, during the whole of
your voyage. Vast and wide are the highways of the great ocean.
With a knowledge of these facts, but few of the men indulged in any very
strong expectation of our coming in sight of a sail. We were in that
very part of the Atlantic where the chances of such an encounter were
few and far between. We were out of the line of navigation between any
two great commercial countries; and although formerly Spanish vessels
had travelled a good deal near the track we were in--in their
intercourse with their South American colonies--this intercourse had
been greatly diminished by revolution, and most of the traffic with
these countries was now carried on in vessels belonging to the United
States, and these were not likely to sail so far to the eastward as we
were. Portuguese ships still traded to the Brazils in considerable
numbers, and upon these we built most of our hopes--these and the
chances that some ship engaged in the same traffic as the _Pandora_
might be crossing westward with slaves, or returning for a fresh cargo.
There was yet other vessels that occasionally navigated this part of the
Atlantic--cruisers on their way from the African coast to the Brazils,
or warships from Gibraltar, going round the Horn into the Pacific, or
passing from the Cape of Good Hope to the West Indies.
All these chances were eagerly brought forward by the men, and discussed
with every circumstance of minuteness. Every point was produced that
seemed to promise a hope of deliverance; for most, if not all, of these
outlaws were seamen of experience, and well knew the ways of the ocean.
Some held the opinion that our chances of being picked up were not so
bad after all. There was a sail that could be rigged, by means of oars
and handspikes, and spread out so as to be visible from afar. Some ship
would be certain to come along and see us, and then all would be right
again.
So talked those of more sanguine temperament; but the wiser ones shook
their heads and doubted. They reasoned in an opposite strain, and made
use of arguments, the force of which could not be denied, and which
produced great discouragement. There are some who seem always to prefer
exhibiting the darker side of the picture--perhaps not from any pleasure
that it gives them to do so, but, by accustoming themselves to the worst
view of the case they may be the better able to endure it when it comes.
Otherwise, in the event of success, that they may derive all the
greater enjoyment from the reaction.
These last alleged that the chances of meeting with any vessel in that
solitary part of the ocean were slight, very slight indeed; that even if
there were ships--hundreds of them--how could they approach the raft
during a calm? Of course the ships would be becalmed as they themselves
were, and would have to remain so as long as the calm continued. This
would be likely to last for weeks, and how were they to exist for weeks?
How long would their provisions keep them alive? Not weeks; a few days
perhaps, not more?
These remarks led to an immediate examination of the stock of provisions
that had been brought away from the wreck; and every article on the raft
was now turned up and scrutinised. Strange to say the only thing of
which there was a tolerable supply was water. The large cask that had
hitherto stood on deck--and which was still nearly half-full--was now
upon the raft. It had been bunged up and rolled overboard, and then
safely deposited among the spars, where it floated of itself. What
water may have been carried away in the gig no one knew, but certain it
was that the cask was still nearly half-full.
This discovery produced a momentary cheerfulness--for, in such cases,
water is usually the most important consideration, and ofttimes the very
one that is neglected.
But the joy was of short continuance; when every article upon the raft
was overhauled, and every portion of it carefully searched, the only
food that could be found was a small bag of biscuits--not enough to give
two biscuits to each of us--not enough for a single meal!
This astounded intelligence was received with cries of chagrin and looks
of dismay. Some shouted in anger. One half recriminated the other.
Some had been entrusted specially to provide the food. These alleged
that a barrel of pork had been put upon the raft. Where was it?
Certainly there was a barrel; but, on breaking it open, to the dismay of
all, it proved to be a barrel of pitch!
A scene now ensued that it would be impossible to describe. Oaths,
exclamations, and angry words passed freely, and the men almost came to
blows. The pitch was thrown into the sea, and those who had put it upon
the raft were threatened with a similar fate. Their negligence would
prove fatal to all. But for them there might still have been a chance;
but now, what hope? With two biscuits apiece, how long could they
exist? Not three days without suffering the extreme of hunger. Ere a
week should pass, one and all must perish!
The probability, nay, the positive certainty, of such a doom produced a
scene of despondence--mingled with angry excitement on the part of those
who called themselves "betrayed"--that it would be difficult to paint.
Harsh revilings were freely used; and threats of throwing the
delinquents into the sea continued to be uttered at intervals during the
whole night.
There was still another barrel upon the raft, that had been better left
upon the burning wreck. But it was not likely that it should be
forgotten. Its contents were of a nature too highly prized by the
sailor who fears death by drowning, or any other sudden or violent
means. It is supposed to make death easy, and, therefore, the
despairing wretch clings to it as a friend. It is a sad resource, an
awful termination to human existence; but often is it appealed to in the
last moments of misery. I need not say that this barrel contained rum.
Whether it was the same that had been lowered into the long-boat with
such pernicious effect I cannot say. Perhaps it was. It may have
floated and been picked up again; or it may have been still another one,
for among the stores of the ill-fated barque there was a plentiful
supply of this horrible liquor. It constituted the chief "tipple" of
the dissipated crew--the main source of their indulgence and bestial
enjoyment. A vile cheap stuff it was, freely served out to them, scarce
kept under lock and key; and there was not an hour in which one or other
of them might not have been seen refreshing himself at this odious
fountain. If the barrel of pork had been forgotten and left behind,
here was a substitute; and the sight of this reeking cask, strange to
say, produced a cheering effect upon numbers of those savage men. Many
were heard proclaiming, in a sort of jocular bravado, that if the rum
wouldn't keep them alive it would help them to die!