Chapter Fifteen.
Dying of hunger and thirst.
I must confess that the sudden appearance of those two ferocious monsters of the deep excited within me a feeling of intense horror and uneasiness; for I had heard so much about the alleged mysterious instinct by which the shark is said to be enabled to foresee the approaching death of one or more members of a crew, and had listened to so many apparently authentic stories confirming this belief in the creature’s powers, that I had grown to be quite prepared to believe that there might be something more than mere superstition at the bottom of it. And now it almost appeared as though I was to have an opportunity of learning by personal experience what amount of truth there really was in the gruesome theory. But after the first shock of horror had passed, reason and common sense whispered that the presence of these visitors, instead of being a constant horror and menace to us, might, by good luck, be converted into a valuable source of food-supply, and I accordingly at once informed the men that there were two sharks following us, and inquired whether any of them could suggest a plan for the capture of one of the fish. I immediately discovered, however, that I should have done better to have said nothing; for the announcement excited the utmost consternation; while my proposal to attempt the capture of one of the fish was ridiculed as something approaching the height of absurdity. Tom Hardy—a weather-beaten seaman, who had been knocking about in all parts of the world for thirty years from the time when he first plunged his hands into the tar bucket at the age of fourteen—at once rose from his thwart, where he was pulling the stroke oar; and, looking over the heads of Dumaresq and myself, stared intently down at the fish for a few seconds, and then resumed his seat, remarking:
“Ay, mates, what Mr Bowen says is true enough; there’s two of ’em; and that means that two of this here party is goin’ to lose the number of their mess afore long; you mark my words and see if they don’t come true. As to catchin’ either of them sharks, why, we haven’t got no hook to catch ’em with. And, if we had, ’twouldn’t be of no use to try; them fish ain’t to be caught; they’re astarn of us for a purpose; and there they’ll stay until that purpose have come to pass. I’ve knowed this sort of thing to happen afore. I was once aboard of a brig called the Black Snake, hailin’ from Liverpool, and tradin’ between the West Injies and the Guinea coast. We’d made a fine run across from Barbadoes, and was within a week’s run of the Old Calabar river when it fell calm with us, just as it have done now.
“There wasn’t nothing the matter with none of us at the time; but a’ter we’d been becalmed about a week—which, let me tell ye, mates, ain’t nothing so very much out of the common in them latitoods—the second mate fell sick, and took to his bunk. He hadn’t been there not two hours when somebody sings out as there was a shark under the counter; and we goes to work to try and catch him. But, mates, he wasn’t to be caught, though we tried him all ways, even to pitchin’ the bait right down atop of his ugly snout. Mind you, he was ready enough to swaller as much pork as ever we chose to give him, so long as there wasn’t no hook in it; but if there was a hook buried in it he wouldn’t so much as look at it.
“Well, we was obliged to give it up at last; and as we was haulin’ in the line and unbendin’ the hook I heard the chief mate say to the skipper:—
“‘That settles poor Hobbs’ hash, anyhow!’
“‘How d’ye mean?’ says the skipper, short and angry-like.
“‘Why,’ says the mate, ‘I means that Hobbs won’t get better, and that shark knows it. He’s just waitin’ for him!’
“‘Oh, nonsense,’ says the skipper; ‘I’m surprised, Mr Barker, to hear a hintelligent man like you sayin’ such things.’
“And he marches off down below, and goes into the second mate’s cabin to see how the poor chap was gettin’ on. About twenty minutes a’terwards he comes up on deck again, and tells the mate as poor Mr Hobbs have got the yaller fever. And, mates, I takes notice that the skipper weren’t just then lookin’ so extra well hisself. About a hour a’terwards he goes below again; and by and by the steward comes for’ard, lookin’ pretty frightened, I can tell ye, and says as the skipper is sick, too.
“‘I wonder whether there’s a shark come for him, as well as for the second mate,’ says one of the men, jokin’ like. ‘Run aft, steward,’ says he, ‘and look over the taffrail, and see.’
“The steward did as he was told; and presently he comes for’ard again, as white as a ghost; and:—
“‘There’s two of ’em now,’ says he. And sure enough, shipmates, when we went aft and had a look for ourselves, there was two sharks just playin’ about under the starn, scullin’ here and there, lazy-like, but never goin’ very far away.
“I told the mate of this, and p’inted out the brutes to him; but he didn’t seem a bit put out by it; he just laughed and said:—
“‘Then the skipper’s goose is cooked, too; and I shall have to take charge of the ship myself!’
“And, as he said it, mates, you may believe me or not, as you like, but up comes a third shark, and jines company with the two that was standin’ off and on.
“‘Hillo!’ says the mate, now lookin’ frightened enough; ‘what’s the meanin’ of this here, I wonder? Three of ’em,’ he says; ‘one for Hobbs, and one for the cap’n: but who’s the third one a’ter?’
“Mates, what I’m goin’ to tell you is as true as that I’m sittin’ here on this here thwart: the mate was took ill that very night; and the next day he follered poor Mr Hobbs and the skipper over the rail; and then the three sharks left us. And a week later the brig went ashore on the coast, about the middle of as dark a night as ever you see, and me and two more was all as managed to reach the sand-hills alive.”
This weird story, told with all the impressiveness of a man who knew himself to be speaking the truth—emphasised as it was by the persistent presence of those two remorseless brutes under our own stern,—affected the listeners powerfully; and at its close there was not one of us, I will venture to say, but was firmly convinced that at least two of our party were doomed.
We continued pulling to the eastward until nearly midnight that night, relieving each other at the oars at short intervals, when, suddenly, one of the men—Peter Green by name—dropped his oar and, with a choking cry, rolled off his thwart and fell prone into the bottom of the boat. His place was immediately taken by another; but within a quarter of an hour this man, too, was obliged to give up; and so, one after the other, they all succumbed, until only Dumaresq and myself were left; and we had not been tugging at the oars five minutes when the Frenchman cried:
“It is no good, mon ami; I am ‘gastados’, as the Spaniards say; I am expended, worn out!” He rose to his feet; staggered heavily aft, and sank down in the stern-sheets with a groan and a gasping cry of:
“Water! water! For the love of God give me a mouthful of water, or I shall die!”
The poor fellow had, of course, been receiving the same allowance as the rest of us; and the small quantity of putrid fluid now remaining in the bottom of our breaker was of such priceless value that I could not give him any more without inflicting a grievous injustice and injury upon the rest; nevertheless, I could not sit there and see him die; so I drew a single allowance from the cask—explaining to the men as well as my own parched throat would allow, that I would forego my own allowance next time that it was due—and, raising his head, I poured it into his mouth, bitterly grudging him every drop, I am ashamed to say, as I did so. There was only enough to just moisten his cracked lips and his dry, black tongue; but, such as it was, it seemed to revive him somewhat, and, squeezing my hand gratefully, he settled himself more comfortably on the thwart, and presently appeared to sink into a state of semi-unconsciousness that perhaps partially served in place of sleep.
I would gladly have followed his example if I could, but it was impossible. My stubborn constitution seemed to defy the destructive wear and tear of prolonged hunger and thirst; but my sufferings were beyond the power of language to portray; my craving hunger was so intense that I believe I could have eaten and enjoyed any food, however revolting, could I but have obtained it; while my thirst was so overpowering that it was with the utmost difficulty I combated the temptation to open a vein and moisten my parched and burning tongue and throat with my own blood. Equally difficult was it to resist the temptation to take a long, cool, satisfying draught of the salt-water that lapped so tantalisingly against the sides of the boat, and shimmered so temptingly in the starlight all around me; but I knew what the consequences of such an act would be, and, by the resolute exercise of all the will power remaining to me I contrived to overcome the longing. Yet so excruciating was my torment that I felt I must do something to alleviate it, even though the alleviation were to be of the briefest. I therefore determined to try an experiment; and, stripping off all my clothing, I plunged the garments, one by one, into the water alongside, until they were saturated; when I donned them again. The cool, wet contact of them with my dry, burning skin seemed to afford some relief to my tormenting thirst; and, encouraged by this small measure of success, I next cut a strip of leather from one of my boots and, dividing this into small pieces, I placed them, one at a time, in my mouth, masticating them as well as I could, and finally swallowing them. It will, perhaps, convey to the reader some idea of the intensity of my hunger when I say that I actually enjoyed these pieces of leather, and that my unendurable craving for food was in an appreciable degree appeased by them, to an extent sufficient, indeed, to enable me to lie down and actually fall asleep.
I remember that my dreams, that night, were of feasting and drinking, of a profusion of appetising viands and choice wines spread upon long tables that stood under the welcome shadow of umbrageous trees and close to the borders of sparkling streams of sweet, crystal-clear water; and when I awoke the sun was again rising above the horizon into a sky of fleckless blue reflected by an ocean of glassy calm unbroken by the faintest discoverable suggestion of a flaw of wind anywhere upon its mirror-like surface. My companions were also stirring; some of them contenting themselves by merely grasping the gunwale of the boat and so raising their bodies that they could look round them for a moment, and then sinking back with a moan of despair at the sight of the breathless calm and the blank horizon, while others—two or three whose strength still sufficed for the extra effort—painfully raised themselves upon their feet and scanned the horizon with a longer and more searching gaze for a sail. There was nothing to be seen, however, in the whole visible stretch of the ocean, save the fins of the two sharks which haunted us so remorselessly; so, with inarticulate mutterings of despair, and hoarse, broken curses at the ill-fortune which so persistently dogged us, we prepared to devour our last insignificant ration of food and consume the last drops of our hoarded water.
The next minute saw us transformed into a crew of furious, raving maniacs; for—the food and the water had both disappeared! the locker forward in which our last morsel of meat had been deposited on the previous night was empty; the water-breaker was dry! some unscrupulous villain, some vile, dastardly thief among us had stolen and consumed both! The discovery of this detestable crime had the temporary effect of a powerful restorative upon us; our furious indignation temporarily imbued our bodies with new vigour; and in an instant every man of us was upon his feet and glaring round, with eyes ablaze, upon his fellows, in search of the criminal. In vain I strove to quell the excitement, to stay the clamour, and to restore order; discipline and obedience indeed were at an end, distinctions of rank no longer existed, the ordinary restraints of civilisation were discarded, our frightful situation had reduced us to the condition of wild beasts, and my entreaties that the matter might be dealt with in something like judicial form might as well have been urged upon the empty air.
There was not much difficulty in identifying the culprit. He was a Welshman, named Evans, a poor, pitiful, sneaking creature, one of the under-stewards belonging to the Manilla, who had systematically shirked his share of the work, and done his best to evade his share of the hardship from the very first; and although, when taxed with his crime, he at first strenuously denied it, his manner belied his words, and presently he flung himself upon his knees and—with tears and protestations of his inability to resist the temptation that had suddenly come upon him—acknowledged the theft, and abjectly besought our forgiveness. I very much doubt whether, in my then frame of mind, I could have been induced to forgive the miserable creature: but I certainly had no desire to inflict any punishment upon him beyond what he would derive from my undisguised expressions of contempt and abhorrence. Not so his more immediate companions, however. Evans had no sooner confessed than, with a hoarse howl of fury, his self-constituted judges whipped out their sheath-knives, while in a paroxysm of terror the wretched steward leapt to his feet and hastily retreated forward, shrieking for mercy. The men followed him; and ere I could intervene there was a scuffle, a rapid rain of blows, a smothered groan, a splash alongside, and the next instant the Welshman’s head reappeared above water, about a fathom away from the boat, his face grey and distorted with fear, and his skinny hands outstretched in a vain endeavour to reach the gunwale of the boat. Then, almost in the self-same instant, and before one’s benumbed senses found time to realise the ghastly tragedy, there was a rapid swirl of water alongside, an ear-splitting yell, and the miserable man was dragged down, an ensanguined patch in the deep crystalline blue, and a few transitory air-bubbles alone marking the spot from which he had vanished. Involuntarily I glanced astern. There was but one shark’s fin now visible!
“Shame upon you, men; shame upon you!” cried I, emerging from the temporary trance of stupefaction which seemed to have seized me while this frightful tragedy was in progress. “You have taken a human life, and branded yourselves as murderers. And for what? Simply because that poor craven of a fellow appropriated a small morsel of putrid meat and a few drops of disgusting liquid that, evenly divided among you all, could have done you no appreciable good. At most, it could but have prolonged your lives an hour or two.”
“Ay, that’s just it!” huskily interrupted one of the men. “The meat and the water that we’ve lost would have give us another hour or two of life, and who’s to say that just that hour or two mightn’t have made all the difference between livin’ and dyin’ to us? If anything was to happen to drift into view within the next few hours, that bit of meat and they few drops of water might have give us strength enough to handle the oars again and pull far enough to be sighted and picked up; but now we’re done for, all hands of us. Our strength is gone, and we’ve nothin’ left to give it back to us, even if a whole fleet was in sight at this present moment. When that chap stole the last of our grub he stole our lives with it. He’s the murderer, not us, and he deserved what he got! Oh, my God, water! Give us water, for Christ’s sake!”
And, throwing up his poor, lean, shrivelled hands toward the cloudless sky, with a gesture eloquent of frantic, despairing appeal, the poor, tortured creature suddenly collapsed and fell senseless athwart the gunwale of the boat, with his arms hanging down into the water. We dragged him quickly inboard again, but we were not a second too soon, for we had scarcely done so when the remaining shark was alongside, glaring up at us with a look of fell longing in those cruel goggle eyes of his, that seemed to say he intended to have his prey sooner or later, although we had baulked him of it for the present.
The dreadful exhaustion of reaction from the late excitement now seized upon the rest of us, and one by one we wearily sank down again into our respective places in the boat. Then I told the men by what means I had obtained temporary relief during the night, advising them to try the same method, and presently we were all sitting in our wet clothes, ravenously chewing away upon strips of our shoe leather. But nobody thought of again having recourse to the oars; indeed our strength had now so completely melted away that I doubt very much whether a single man in the whole of that boat’s company—saving, perhaps, myself—could have laid out an oar unaided.
The blazing hot, breathless day lagged slowly along, every hour seeming to spin itself out to a more intolerable length than the last, and with every moment our suffering grew more nearly unbearable, until toward evening I seemed to be going mad, for the most fantastic ideas went crowding through my whirling brain, and I now and then caught myself muttering the most utter nonsense, now laughing, now weeping and moaning like a child. Anon I found myself kneeling in the stern-sheets and supporting my body upon one arm as I gesticulated with the other while apostrophising that demon shark—or were there two of them again, or three? I remember laughing to myself uproariously, noticing at the same time, with a sort of wonder, what a wild, eldritch, gibbering laugh it was, at the thought of how those sharks—yes, there were three; I was certain of it—would jostle and hustle each other, in their greedy haste to get at me, were I to simply stand up and topple over the gunwale into the water. And how easily—how ridiculously easily—I might do it too. I laughed again at the absurdity of taking so much trouble and enduring such frightful extremity of suffering to preserve a life that might be so readily got rid of, and wondered dully why I had been so foolish as to go through it all when it might be put an end to in a single moment. Why, I asked myself, should I remain any longer in the boat with that great, red, flaming eye staring so mercilessly down upon me out of that brazen sky, when the laughing blue water smiled so temptingly up into my eyes and wooed me to its cool embrace? There would be no more hunger and thirst down there, no relentless sun to torment me century after century by darting his fiery beams down upon my uncovered head and through my hissing, seething brain. A plunge, and all my miseries would be at an end. I would make that plunge; I would seek those cool, cerulean depths; I would—Ah! I had forgotten you, you devils! What! are you waiting for me? Are you growing impatient? How many of you are there? One, two, three, four—stop, stop. I cannot count you if you swarm around the boat in that unseemly fashion! Why, there are hundreds of you, thousands, millions! The sea is black with you! Your waving fins cover the ocean to the farthest confines of the horizon! And you are all waiting for me! Very well, then, I shall disappoint you. I shall—
When I recovered from my delirium it was night. The stars were shining brightly, and the air was deliciously cool after the scorching heat of the day. Strange to say, I no longer felt hungry. The craving for food was gone, but its place was more than supplied by an increased agony of thirst which seared my vitals as with fire. My lips were dry and cracked; my tongue felt shrivelled and hard in my mouth. I tried to speak to Dumaresq, who was lying in the bottom of the boat with his glazed eyes turned up at the stars, but I could give utterance only to a husky, hissing sound. There was no movement on the part of any of the forms that were dimly discernable, huddled up in the bottom of the boat. Whether they were dead or only asleep I knew not, nor cared. Life and everything connected with it had lost all interest for me I was dying. I knew it, and longed only for the end to come that I might be delivered out of my misery. With inexpressible pain I raised myself to my knees to take one more last look round, lest peradventure a sail should by some miraculous interposition of Providence have drifted within our ken, but there was nothing. There could be nothing while that murderous calm lasted. I felt the old delirium returning upon me; it was rioting within my brain. Strange forms and hideous shapes floated around me. The dead steward climbed in over the gunwale and stood in the eyes of the boat, denouncing us as murderers and calling curses down upon us. Then the scene changed. A glorious light shone round about us; soft strains of sweetest music came floating to us across the placid waters; delicious perfumes filled the air. There was a gentle murmuring sound as of a soft wind among trees and a gentle tinkling as of a running stream. Then my brain seemed to burst. I was dimly conscious that I was falling backward, and I knew no more.