CHAPTER XXXII.

DECEMBER 8th to 17th.--When night came we wrapped ourselves in our

sails. For my own part, worn out with the fatigue of the long watch in

the top-mast, I slept for several hours; M. Letourneur and Andre did

the same, and Miss Herbey obtained sufficient rest to relieve the tired

expression that her countenance had lately been wearing. The night

passed quietly. As the raft was not very heavily laden the waves did not

break over it at all, and we were consequently able to keep ourselves

perfectly dry. To say the truth, it was far better for us that the sea

should remain somewhat boisterous, for any diminution in the swell of

the waves would indicate that; the wind had dropped, and it was with a

feeling of regret that when the morning came I had to note down “weather

calm” in my journal.

In these low latitudes the heat in the day-time is so intense, and

the sun burns with such an incessant glare, that the entire atmosphere

becomes pervaded with a glowing vapour. The wind, too, blows only in

fitful gusts and through long intervals of perfect calm the sails flap

idly and uselessly against the mast. Curtis and the boatswain, however,

are of opinion that we are not entirely dependent on the wind. Certain

indications, which a sailor’s eye alone could detect, make them almost

sure that we are being carried along by a westerly current, that flows

at the rate of three or four miles an hour. If they are not mistaken,

this is a circumstance that may materially assist our progress, and

at which we can hardly fail to rejoice, for the high temperature often

makes our scanty allowance of water quite inadequate to allay our

thirst.

But with all our hardships I must confess that our condition is

far preferable to what it was when we were still clinging to the

“Chancellor.” Here at least we have a comparatively solid platform

beneath our feet, and we are relieved from the incessant dread of being

carried down with a foundering vessel. In the day-time we can move about

with a certain amount of freedom, discuss the weather, watch the sea,

and examine our fishing-lines; whilst at night we can rest securely

under the shelter of our sails.

“I really think, Mr. Kazallon,” said Andre Letourneur to me a few

days after we had embarked, “that our time on board the raft passes as

pleasantly as it did upon Ham Rock; and the raft has one advantage even

over the reef, for it is capable of motion.”

“Yes, Andre,” replied, “as long as the wind continues favourable the

raft has decidedly the advantage; but supposing the wind shifts, what

then?”

“Oh, we mustn’t think about that,” he said; “let us keep up our courage

while we can.”

I felt that he was right, and that the dangers we had escaped should

make us more hopeful for the future; and I think that nearly all of us

are inclined to share his opinion.

Whether the captain is equally sanguine I am unable to say. He holds

himself very much aloof, and as he evidently feels that he has the great

responsibility of saving other lives than his own, we are reluctant to

disturb his silent meditations.

Such of the crew as are not on watch spend the greater portion of their

time in dozing on the fore part of the raft. The aft, by the captain’s

orders, has been reserved for the use of us passengers, and by erecting

some uprights we have contrived to make a sort of tent, which affords

some shelter from the burning sun. On the whole our bill of health is

tolerably satisfactory. Lieutenant Walter is the only invalid, and he,

in spite of all our careful nursing, seems to get weaker every day.

Andre Letourneur is the life of our party, and I have never appreciated

the young man so well. His originality of perception makes his

conversation both lively and entertaining and as he talks, his wan

and suffering countenance lights up with an intelligent animation. His

father seems to become more devoted to him than ever, and I have seen

him sit for an hour at a time, with his hand resting on his son’s,

listening eagerly to his every word.

Miss Herbey occasionally joins in our conversation, but although we all

do our best to make her forget that she has lost those who should have

been her natural protectors, M. Letourneur is the only one amongst us to

whom she speaks without a certain reserve. To him, whose age gives him

something of the authority of a father, she has told the history of her

life--a life of patience and self-denial such as not unfrequently falls

to the lot of orphans. She had been, she said, two years with Mrs.

Kear, and although now left alone in the world, homeless and without

resources, hope for the future does not fail her. The young lady’s

modest deportment and energy of character command the respect of all

on board, and I do not think that even the coarsest of the sailors has

either by word or gesture acted towards her in a way that she could deem

offensive.

The 12th, 13th, and 14th of December passed away without any change in

our condition. The wind continued to blow in irregular gusts, but always

in the same direction, and the helm, or rather the paddle at the back of

the raft has never once required shifting; and the watch, who are posted

on the fore, under orders to examine the sea with the most scrupulous

attention, have had no change of any kind to report.

At the end of a week we found ourselves growing accustomed to our

limited diet, and as we had no manual exertion, and no wear and tear

of our physical constitution, we managed very well. Our greatest

deprivation was the short supply of water, for, as I said before, the

unmitigated heat made our thirst at times very painful.

On the 15th we held high festival. A shoal of fish, of the sparus tribe,

swarmed round the raft, and although our tackle consisted merely of long

cords baited with morsels of dried meat stuck upon bent nails, the fish

were so voracious that in the course of a couple of days we had caught

as many as weighed almost 200lbs., some of which were grilled, and

others boiled in sea-water over a fire made on the fore part of the

raft. This marvelous haul was doubly welcome, inasmuch as it not only

afforded us a change of diet, but enabled us to economize our stores; if

only some rain had fallen at the same time we should have been more than

satisfied.

Unfortunately the shoal of fish did not remain long in our vicinity. On

the 17th they all disappeared, and some sharks, not less than twelve or

fifteen feet long, belonging to the species of spotted dog-fish, took

their place. These horrible creatures have black backs and fins, covered

with white spots and stripes. Here, on our low raft, we seem almost on

a level with them, and more than once their tails have struck the spars

with terrible violence. The sailors manage to keep them at a distance

by means of handspikes, but I shall not be surprised if they persist in

following us, instinctively intelligent that we are destined to become

their prey. For myself, I confess that they give me a feeling of

uneasiness; they seem to me like monsters of ill-omen.

The Survivors of the Chancellor: Diary of J.R. Kazallon, Passenger · 第 32 / 57 章