Death in all its dark reality once more stared them in the face. They
were entirely without food. Of all their stores, collected and cured
with so much care and ingenuity, not a morsel remained. Besides what
the chest contained there had been some loose flitches of the dried fish
lying about upon the raft. These had been carried into the boat, and
must have been capsized into the sea. While collecting the other
_debris_, they had looked for them in hopes that some stray pieces might
still be picked up; not one had been found. If they floated at all,
they must have been grabbed by the sharks themselves, or some other
ravenous creatures of the deep.
Had any such waifs come in their way, the castaways just at that crisis
might not have cared to eat them with the bitterness they must have
derived from their briny immersion; still they knew that in due time
they would get over any daintiness of this kind; and, indeed, before
many hours had elapsed, all four of them began to feel keenly the
cravings of a hunger not likely to refuse the coarsest or most
unpalatable food. Since that hurried retreat from their moorings by the
carcass of the _cachalot_ they had not eaten anything like a regular
meal.
The series of terrible incidents, so rapidly succeeding one another,
along with the almost continuous exertions they had been compelled to
make, had kept their minds from dwelling upon the condition of their
appetites. They had only snatched a morsel of food at intervals, and
swallowed a mouthful of water.
Just at the time the last catastrophe occurred they had been intending
to treat themselves to a more ceremonious meal, and were only waiting
until the sail should be set, and the boat gliding along her course, to
enter upon the eating of it.
This pleasant design had been frustrated by the flukes of the whale;
which, though destroying many other things, had, unfortunately, not
injured their appetites. These were keen enough when they first
reoccupied their old places on the _Catamaran_; but as the day advanced,
and they continued to exert themselves in collecting the fragments of
the wreck, their hunger kept constantly increasing, until all four
experienced that appetite as keenly as they had ever done since the
commencement of their prolonged and perilous "cruise."
In this half-famished condition it was not likely they should have any
great relish for work; and as soon as they had secured the various
waifs, against the danger of being carried away, they set themselves to
consider what chance they had to provide themselves with a fresh stock
of food.
Of course their thoughts were directed towards the deep, or rather its
finny denizens. There was nothing else above, beneath, or around them
that could have been coupled with the idea of food.
Their former success in fishing might have given them confidence,--and
would have done so but for an unfortunate change that had taken place in
their circumstances.
Their hooks were among the articles now missing. The harpoons which
they had handled with such deadly effect upon the carcass of the
_cachalot_ had been there left,--sticking up out of the back of the dead
leviathan composing that improvised spit erected for roasting the
shark-steaks. In short, every article of iron,--even to their own
knives, which had been thrown loosely into the boat,--was now at the
bottom of the sea.
There was not a moiety of metal left out of which they could manufacture
a fish-hook; and if there had been it would not have mattered much,
since they could not discover a scrap of meat sufficient to have baited
it.
There seemed no chance whatever of fishing or obtaining fish in any
fashion; and after turning the subject ever and over in their minds,
they at length relinquished it in despair.
At this crisis their thoughts reverted to the _cachalot_,--not the live,
leaping leviathan, whose hostile behaviour had so suddenly blighted
their bright prospects; but the dead one, upon whose huge carcass they
had so lately stood. There they might still find food,--more
shark-meat. If not, there was the whale-beef, or blubber: coarse
viands, it is true, but such as may sustain life. Of that there was
enough to have replenished the larder of a whole ship's crew,--of a
squadron!
It was just possible they could find their way back to it, for the wind,
down which they had been running, was still in the same quarter; and the
whole distance they had made during the night might in time be
recovered.
At the best, it would have been a difficult undertaking and doubtful of
success, even if there had been no other obstacle than the elements
standing in their way.
But there was,--one more dreaded than either the opposition of the wind
or the danger of straying from their course.
In all likelihood their pursuers had returned to the spot which they had
forsaken; and might at that very moment be mooring their craft to the
huge pectoral fin that had carried the cable of the _Catamaran_.
In view of this probability, the idea of returning to the dead whale was
scarce entertained, or only to be abandoned on the instant.
Cheerless were the thoughts of the Catamarans as they sat pondering upon
that important question,--how they were to find food,--cheerless as the
clouds of night that were now rapidly descending over the surface of the
sea, and shrouding them in sombre gloom.
Never before had they felt so dispirited, and yet never had they been so
near being relieved from their misery. It was the darkest hour of their
despondency, and the nearest to their deliverance; as the darkest hour
of the night is that which precedes the day.