Boxall now suggested that we should place the three casks and some loose planks so as to form a barricade in front of us, by which means we might better resist an attack. We were engaged doing this, when the leader of the mutineers cried out,—“What are you about? Let these things remain as they are. We want food and water: if it’s not given to us, we will come and take it.”
The carpenter, instead of boldly adhering to what he knew was wise, was advised by his more timid companions, and replied that he would give them a little pork and water provided they should remain quiet. I told Boxall; who desired me to warn him that he was acting very imprudently, as they would be sure to ask for more. He persisted, however; and telling the men to come for their rations, he gave each a small measure of water and a piece of pork. On this, several who had remained neutral joined them, and also insisted on receiving their rations. Being supported by the mutineers, the rest of the people very naturally cried out that they must have their share,—fearing that otherwise the mutineers would get the whole of it.
Scarcely had the distribution been made, when the mutineers again demanded another supply.
“We must be firm, or, finding that they can overawe us, they will insist on doing whatever they please,” said Boxall.
The carpenter could not fail to see the wisdom of this advice, and replied that not another drop of water or particle of food would be served out till the next morning. The mutineers received the answer in sullen silence, making at the time no movement; and we began to hope that they would remain quiet. As, however, they soon again felt the gnawings of hunger, they began to talk together in low voices; and, influenced by the instincts of savage beasts, they seemed determined to take by force what they wanted.
Their leader, starting up, cried out,—“It’s time to have more food; come, Mr Carpenter, give it to us at once.”
“Be quiet, friends; you know that is impossible,” was the mild reply.
It failed to influence them, however; and drawing their knives, with which most of them were armed, they sprang towards us. Just at that moment some one at the other end of the raft shouted out,—“A sail! a sail!” The welcome sound arrested even the savage wretches, and, sheathing their knives, they looked round in the direction in which the man was pointing. We cast our eyes towards the spot. There could be no doubt that there was a sail, but I saw at once that it must be a very small vessel, or a boat. I thought it best, however, not to tell the Spaniards this.
The mutineers sat down, looking out towards the sail. Though the prospect of relief was sufficient, one might have supposed, to arouse every one, yet so weak and dispirited were many of the Spaniards, that they scarcely moved from their positions, but sat, as before, with their heads resting on their knees. One thing was certain—that the craft, whatever she was, was standing towards us, bringing up a breeze; yet she approached very slowly.
“I suspected from the first what she was,” observed Boxall. “Let me have your glass, Charlie, that I may be certain.” I gave him my telescope, which I had kept slung at my back. “As I thought: it is a small raft—probably Ben’s. Honest fellow, I wronged him. He calculated the direction in which we were likely to have drifted, and is coming to our assistance.”