Chapter 65 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
It was probably on the sixth day after parting from the wreck—though I am not certain about the day—that the horrid design reached its development. It had been hatching for a while before, and upon that day came to a crisis.
It was now several days since food had been tasted by any one—the two biscuits each had been long since eaten—most of them at the moment of being given out. Of course every one upon the raft was suffering the pangs of hunger, and had been enduring them until the appetite had reached the extremity of painfulness.
Some looked emaciated, with eyes deeply sunken, and cheeks bony and hollow. Others, strange to say, had a fat, bloated appearance; but this must have arisen from swelling, or some unnatural cause—it could not be that famine had given them flesh. All—one and all—had that peculiar expression about the eyes, and around the mouth, that may be noticed in the visage of a hungry dog, or still more perceptibly in a half-starved wolf.
About this period there seemed to be some secret intelligence among them—not all of them—but among those who acted as leaders—for even in their reduced condition, there were those of stronger body and more energetic spirit, who maintained a sort of leadership over the rest. What this intelligence was I could not tell, nor indeed, should I have taken notice of the indications of its existence, had it not been for what occurred afterwards. I observed them now and then whispering to one another; as they did so casting side-glances towards Brace and myself. At other times I caught now one, and now another, gazing upon me, and with a wild wolfish look, that rendered me, though I could not tell why, singularly uneasy. I noticed that they appeared as if they did not like to be detected while thus looking at me; and ever as I returned their glances they suddenly lowered their eyes or averted their faces. They then appeared as men who have been detected in some mean or guilty action.
As it appeared to me that they looked in a similar manner at my companion, and at one another as well, I fancied that the strange expression that had struck me must be one characteristic of extreme hunger, and I thought no more about it.
On the following day, however, I observed that the whispering among them increased; and was accompanied with a greater variety of gesticulation and excitement.
Brace also noticed it, and guessed better than I what all this freemasonry meant—at least he was nearer the truth, for he was still ignorant of the full purpose of those ruffian conspirators.
He whispered to me what he supposed they were after—with the design of breaking the terrible truth to me as gently as possible. But I had now better than half divined it, and his communication did not startle me.
“Some one got to die, lad. I s’pose they’re talkin’ o’ castin’ lots who it’ll be—well, we must take our chance along with the rest.”
Just as Brace had finished his speech one of the men rose up upon the raft; and, calling the attention of the others, begged to make a proposal to them.
The speech by which he introduced his proposal was brief, indeed, and to the point. In fact, he came to the proposition almost at once, which was simply—that one of the party must die to save the rest—that they had still water—but no food; and all must perish unless they could eat—that they could not eat unless—
But I cannot repeat the dread arguments which he made use of, brief though they were—for his speech was short, and, having delivered it, he sat down again.
There was a short pause, and then another rose and addressed the crowd. This man coincided in the views of him who had spoken, and added to the proposal a suggestion for carrying it out—that was, that the one who was to die should be chosen by lot. This, of course, both Brace and myself expected. It was not likely that any one was going to volunteer.
What was my terror, and the anger and alarm of my companion, when one of the strongest and most brutal of the whole crew—the ruffian Le Gros—rose up, and in a loud and serious tone, not only objected to drawing lots, but proposed me for the victim!
Brace sprang instantly to his feet, and uttered a cry of indignation. It was expected that this cry would have been echoed by the others; and with almost any other band of men upon the face of the earth or the face of the ocean, such would have been the reception of the foul proposal.
But both my companion and I soon perceived, with dismay, that there came no such echo from that ruffian crew. On the contrary, several backed the proposal itself, and in such majority—I might almost say unanimity, that it was plain that most of the men who spoke had already predetermined the case. It was evident, from their prompt acquiescence, that they had been prepared for it; and this accounted for that mysterious whispering that had been carried on during the preceding day. Some few, evidently, had not been in the secret; but these were weak individuals, whose opposition would not have been regarded, and who, indeed, appeared ready enough to chime in with the majority.
The French bully went on to justify his proposition by argument. We were not all equal, he said—there were able seamen—and common sailors—and I was but a boy. Why should I have a chance like the rest? It was preposterous.
Brace opposed his arguments—appealed to the crew—to their sense of justice and fair play—let lots be cast, said he, and let him take his chance with the rest—that was the only fair and honest mode—the only way worthy of men.
Bah! these were not men. One and all were but too glad to grasp at any means that would deliver them from the perilous raffle. The sophistic arguments of Le Gros satisfied them. The infamous motion prevailed. It was decreed that I should die!