JANUARY 25th.--Last night was very misty, and for some unaccountable
reason, one of the hottest that can be imagined. The atmosphere was
really so stifling, that it seemed as if it only required a spark to set
it alight. The raft was not only quite stationary, but did not even rise
and fall with any motion of the waves.
During the night I tried to count how many there were now on board,
but I was utterly unable to collect my ideas sufficiently to make the
enumeration. Sometimes I counted ten, sometimes twelve, and although
I knew that eleven, since Jynxstrop was dead, was the correct number, I
could never bring my reckoning right. Of one thing I felt quite sure,
and that was that the number would very soon be ten. I was convinced
that I could myself last but very little longer. All the events and
associations of my life passed rapidly through my brain, My country, my
friends, and my family all appeared as it were in a vision, and seemed
as though they had come to bid me a last farewell.
Towards morning I woke from my sleep, if the languid stupour into
which I had fallen was worthy of that name. One fixed idea had taken
possession of my brain; I would put an end to myself, and I felt a
sort of pleasure as I gloated over the power that I had to terminate my
sufferings. I told Curtis, with the utmost composure, of my intention,
and he received the intelligence as calmly as it was delivered.
“Of course you will do as you please,” he said; “for, my own part, I
shall not abandon my post. It is my duty to remain here, and unless
death comes to carry me away, I shall stay where I am to the very last.”
The dull grey fog still hung heavily over the ocean, but the sun was
evidently shining above the mist, and would, in course of time, dispel
the vapour. Towards seven o’clock I fancied I heard the cries of birds
above my head. The sound was repeated three times, and as I went up to
the captain to ask him about it, I heard him mutter to himself,--
“Birds! why, that looks as if land were not far off.”
But although Curtis might still cling to the hope of reaching land,
I knew not what it was to have one sanguine thought. For me there was
neither continent nor island; the world was one fluid sphere,
uniform, monotonous, as in the most primitive period of its formation.
Nevertheless it must be owned that it was with a certain amount of
impatience that I awaited the rising of the mist, for I was anxious to
shake off the phantom fallacies that Curtis’s words had suggested to my
mind.
Not till eleven o’clock did the fog begin to break, and as it rolled in
heavy folds along the surface of the water, I could every now and then
catch glimpses of a clear blue sky beyond. Fierce sunbeams pierced the
cloud-rifts, scorching and burning our bodies like red-hot iron; but
it was only above our heads that there was any sunlight to condense the
vapour; the horizon was still quite invisible. There was no wind, and
for half an hour longer the fog hung heavily round the raft; whilst
Curtis, leaning against the side, strove to penetrate the obscurity. At
length the sun burst forth in full power, and, sweeping the surface of
the ocean, dispelled the fog, and left the horizon opened to our eyes.
There, exactly as we had seen it for the last six weeks, was the circle
that bounded sea and sky, unbroken, definite, distinct as ever! Curtis
gazed with intensest scrutiny, but did not speak a word. I pitied him
sincerely, for he alone of us all felt that he had not the right to put
an end to his misery. For myself I had fully determined that if I
lived till the following day, I would die by my own hand. Whether my
companions were still alive, I hardly cared to know; it seemed as though
days had passed since I had seen them.
Night drew on, but I could not sleep for a moment. Towards two o’clock
in the morning my thirst was so intense that I was unable to suppress
loud cries of agony. Was there nothing that would serve to quench the
fire that was burning within me? What if instead of drinking the blood
of others I were to drink my own? It would be all unavailing, I was well
aware, but scarcely had the thought crossed my mind, than I proceeded to
put it into execution. I unclasped my knife, and, stripping my arm, with
a steady thrust I opened a small vein. The blood oozed out slowly, drop
by drop, and as I eagerly swallowed the source of my very life, I felt
that for a moment my torments were relieved, But only for a moment; all
energy had failed my pulses, and almost immediately the blood had ceased
to flow.
How long it seemed before the morning dawned! and when that morning came
it brought another fog, heavy as before that again shut out the horizon.
The fog was hot as the burning steam that issues from a boiler. It was
to be my last day upon earth, and I felt that I would like to press the
hand of a friend before I died. Curtis was standing near, and crawling
up to him, I took his hand in my own. He seemed to know that I was
taking my farewell, and with one last lingering hope he endeavoured to
restrain me. But all in vain, my mind was finally made up.
I should have like to speak once again to M. Letourneur, Andre and Miss
Herbey, but my courage failed me. I knew that the young girl would read
my resolution in my eyes, and that she would speak to me of duty and of
God, and of eternity, and I dared not meet her gaze; and I would not
run the risk of being persuaded to wait until a lingering death should
overtake me. I returned to the back of the raft, and after making
several efforts, I managed to get on to my feet. I cast one long look at
the pitiless ocean and the unbroken horizon; if a sail or the outline of
a coast bad broken on my view, I believe that I should only have deemed
myself the victim of an illusion; but nothing of the kind appeared, and
the sea was dreary as a desert.
It was ten o’clock in the morning. The pangs of hunger and the torments
of thirst were racking me with redoubled vigour. All instinct of
self-preservation had left me, and I felt that the hour had come when
I must cease to suffer. Just as I was on the point of casting myself
headlong into the sea, a voice, which I recognized as Dowlas’s; broke
upon my ear.
“Captain,” he said, “we are going to draw lots.”
Involuntarily I paused; I did not take my plunge, but returned to my
place upon the raft.