“‘He’ll go about directly, and heave-to on the other tack,’ said Mr Carr.
“Still the stranger stood on.
“‘Where can he be going to?’ again exclaimed several of us.
“On, on he stood, steadily, with all sail set! Oh, how bitter were the words which followed him! Could that heartless stranger have heard them, would he have ventured to brave the fate to which he had left so many of his fellow-creatures? How completely had he forgotten that golden rule, ‘Do unto others as you would wish others to do unto you!’ What will be his thoughts some day when he is suffering from all the miseries to which we were exposed, when he remembers the wreck he deserted on the wild ocean! Hour after hour we watched him anxiously, scarcely believing, till his topsails dipped beneath the horizon, that so heartless a wretch existed in the creation.”
“Ay, it’s another proof of the depth of man’s vileness, and wickedness, and contempt of the laws of a God of mercy,” observed Peter Poplar. “I have known many such instances almost as bad; so I am not surprised.”
“When we found that we really were deserted, the spirits of all of us and the minds of some gave way. Several of the crew broke into the spirit-room, which they could now reach, and, broaching a cask of liquor, endeavoured to forget their miseries by getting drunk. The mate and I, and most of the passengers, abstained from the temptation. Those who indulged in it were the first to pay the penalty by a miserable death.
“Still discipline had been maintained. Mr Carr called on me to accompany him round the ship in search of anything which might serve as food to stay the cravings of hunger. We discovered a few pounds of candles, some bits of old leather, leather shoes, a rug, a couple of hides; but our greatest prize was about a gallon of lamp-oil, and some oil intended to mix with paint. These we brought into the cabin, to be kept in safety. While we were there, Mr Carr’s eyes fell on old Trojan, the captain’s favourite Newfoundland dog, as he lay almost dying under his master’s cot. The captain very naturally had not brought himself to order its death.
“‘I am sorry, sir,’ said Mr Carr, ‘to propose what I do; but that dog may be the means of preserving the lives of all of us. We must kill him.’
“‘You’ll be proposing to kill and eat each other before long,’ exclaimed the poor master, in a querulous tone.
“‘Heaven forbid!’ answered the mate. ‘But to take the life of a brute beast is a different matter. I don’t see how we can spare him. Even if we do, he will not live long, and now his blood alone will be of great importance.’