The Ocean Waifs: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea

by Mayne Reid

The clean-stripped skeleton lying upon the raft, and which was clearly that of a human being; the bones scattered about,—some of them, as already observed, held in hand, and in such fashion as to show the horrid use that was being made of them,—left no doubt as to the nature of the food upon which the hungering wretches had been subsisting.

This, and the flesh of a small shark, which they had succeeded in luring alongside, and killing with the blow of a handspike, had been their only provision since parting with the Pandora. There were sharks enough around them now. A score, at the very least, might have been quartering the sea, within sight of the raft; but these monsters, strange to say, were so shy, that not one of them would approach near enough to allow them an opportunity of capturing it! Every attempt to take them had proved unsuccessful. Such of the crew as kept sober had been trying for days. Some were even at that moment engaged with hook and line, angling for the ferocious fish,—their hooks floating far out in the water, baited with human flesh.

It was only the mechanical continuation of a scheme that had long since proved to be of no avail,—a sort of despairing struggle against improbability. The sharks had taken the alarm; perhaps from observing the fate of that one of their number that had gone too near the odd embarkation; or, perhaps, warned by some mysterious instinct, that, sooner or later, they would make a grand banquet on those who were so eager to feast upon them.

In any case, no sharks had been taken, or were likely to be taken; and once more the eyes of the famishing castaways were wolfishly turned upon one another, while their thoughts reverted to that horrible alternative that was to save them from starvation.

Le Gros—on board the raft, as upon the deck of the slave-ship—still held a sort of fatal ascendency over his comrades; and with Ben Brace no longer to oppose his despotic propensities, he had established over his fellow-skeletons a species of arbitrary rule.

His conduct had all along been guided by no more regard for fair-play than was just necessary to keep his subordinates from breaking out into open mutiny; and among these the weaker ones fared even worse than their fellows, bad as that was.

A few of the stronger,—who formed a sort of bodyguard to the bully, and were ready to stand up for him in case of extremity,—shared his ascendency over the rest; and to these were distributed larger rations of water, along with the more choice morsels of their horrid food.

This partiality had more than once led to scenes, that promised to end in bloodshed; and but for this occasional show of resistance, Le Gros and his party might have established a tyranny that would have given them full power over the lives of their feebler companions.

Things were fast tending in this direction,—merging, as it were, into absolute monarchy,—a monarchy of “cannibals,” of which Le Gros himself would be “king.” It had not yet, however, quite come to that,—at least when it became a question of life and death. When the necessity arose of finding a fresh victim for their horrible but necessary sacrifice, there was still enough republicanism left among the wretches to influence the decision in a just and equitable manner, and cause the selection to be made by lot. When it comes to crises like these,—to questions of life and death,—men must yield up their opposition to the ballot, and acknowledge its equity.

Le Gros and his cruel bodyguard would have opposed it had they been strong enough,—as do equally cruel politicians who are strong enough,—but the bully still doubted the strength of his party. A proposal so atrocious had beep made, in the case of little William, at the very outset, and had met with but slight opposition. Had it not been for the brave English sailor, the lad would certainly have fallen a sacrifice to the horrid appetites of these horrid men. With one of themselves, however, the case was different. Each had a few adherents, who would not have submitted to such an arbitrary cruelty; and Le Gros was influenced by the fear of a general “skrimmage,” in which more than one life,—among the rest perhaps his own,—might be forfeited. The time for such a high-handed measure had not yet arrived; and when it came to the question of “Who dies next?” it was still found necessary to resort to the ballot.