Yes, the man was mad. The awful occurrences of the preceding night had
deprived him of his reason, and he was now a raving maniac.
Some cried out to throw him into the sea. No one opposed this counsel.
It would have been carried into execution--for several were prepared to
lay hold of him when the maniac, apparently well aware of their
intention, scrambled back into his former position; and, cowering down,
remained silent and scared-like. It was not probable he would harm any
one--he was left alone.
The excitement of this incident soon passed away, and the gloomy looks
returned--if possible, gloomier than before, for it is ever so after
hopes have been raised that terminate in disappointment.
So passed the evening and a portion of the night.
At the same hour as upon the preceding night--almost the same minute--
the breeze again sprung up. It could be of little service--since there
was no chance of our being carried by it to land--but it was cool and
refreshing after the intense torrid heat we had been all day enduring.
Some were for spreading the sail; others saw no use in it. "What good
can it do?" inquired these. "It may carry us a score of miles hence, or
perhaps twice that. What then? It won't bring us in sight of land--nor
a ship neither. We're as likely to see one by lying still. What's the
use of moving about? If we haven't the wherewith to eat and must make a
die of it, we may as well die here as a score of knots farther to
leeward. Set your sail if you will--we won't either hinder or help."
Such language was used by the despairing part of the crew.
There were those who thought that by sailing, we should be more likely
to fall in with a vessel. They thought they could not be worse, and
might drift to a better place, where ships were more frequent--though
they acknowledged that there were equal chances of their going away out
of the track.
The truth is, that not one knew within hundreds of miles of where we
were, and to sail in any course would have been mere guess-work.
By men in misery, however, motion is always preferred to rest; and the
knowledge that you are going, and going forward, produces a soothing
influence on the spirits. It begets a hope that you will come in sight
of something that may aid you; and these hopes, however ill-founded,
enable you to pass the time more lightly. On the contrary, by remaining
in one fixed place, for a like period of time, you fret and chafe much
more under the uncertainty.
With this feeling upon them, most of the men were in favour of bending
the sail, and it was accordingly bent.
The night before it had been held aloft by several of the men--as the
only object then had been to get the raft beyond reach of the swimmers.
When that end was accomplished, the sail had been allowed to drop, and
the raft had drifted a good distance without it.
To-night, however, a mast was raised--or rather, a pair of them--
consisting of oars and handspikes spliced together--and between the two
the canvas was extended, without yard, gaff, or boom. There was no
design to manoeuvre the sail. It was just spread like a blanket,
transversely to the raft, and left for the breeze to blow upon it as it
listed. When this was done the raft was left to its own guidance, and,
of course, drifted to leeward as fast as it could make way--apparently
at the rate of three or four knots an hour.
The men once more resumed their recumbent positions, and all remained
silent. Some fell asleep, and snored as though they were happy! Others
slept, but their dream-talking told of troubled visions--recalling,
maybe, dark scenes of guilt. A few seemed to lie awake all the
live-long night--at intervals tossing about, as though kept on the alert
by thirst, hunger, or the apprehension of approaching death.
Brace and I sat close together. We still occupied the slight raft he
had made--as there was but little room upon the other--and this one, now
forming part of the whole structure, was as good a position as we could
have chosen--in fact the best, as the sequel proved.
There was a sail upon it--the jib or flying jib, I know not which--and a
piece of old tarpauling; and these, spread over the planks, kept them
together, and gave us a softer bed to recline upon.
We conversed together at times, though not often. Now and then the
brave sailor had endeavoured to cheer me by holding out hopes--but so
hopeless had our situation now become that he at length desisted. He
felt that it would be only mockery to hold out the slightest prospect of
our deliverance. He, too--the bravest of all that blind--was fast
surrendering himself to despair.
The breeze died away before daybreak, just as on the previous night--and
another morning came, but showed no sail on all that boundless sea.
Another hot sun rose and circled overhead through the same cloudless
heaven, and set red and fiery as ever.
There passed another night, and once more the wind carried us through
the water; and then several other days and nights--I ceased to count
them--came and went with almost the same monotonous routine, varied only
by bickerings among the men--sometimes most fiendish quarrels, in which
knives were drawn and used almost with fatal effect.
Strange time for disagreement and deadly conflict!
Even wild animals--the fiercest beasts of prey--when under the influence
of a common danger will yield up the ferocity of their nature. Not so
these wicked men--their vile passions in this dread hour seemed only to
become stronger and more malignant!
Their quarrels were about the merest trifles--the serving out of the
water, the rum, the supposition of some one that he was not getting fair
play in his allowance--but so frequent had they become, that they
themselves grew to be a monotony. Every hour a fierce brawl disturbed
the deep repose and otherwise breathless silence that characterised the
intervals between.
If these incidents had grown monotonous and no longer failed to interest
me, there was one upon the eve of occurring that was well calculated to
produce within me an interest of the most powerful kind--calculated to
stir my soul to its very utmost emotion.
I have said that this incident was on the eve of occurring--it was a
hideous purpose already matured, though kept secret from my companion
and myself. Neither Brace nor I had the slightest suspicion of it until
the hour in which it was openly declared.