Chapter 38

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

JANUARY 1st to 5th.--More than three months had elapsed since we
left Charleston in the "Chancellor," and for no less than twenty
days had we now been borne along on our raft at the mercy of the
wind and waves. Whether we were approaching the American coast,
or whether we were drifting farther and farther to sea, it was
now impossible to determine, for, in addition to the other
disasters caused by the hurricane, the captain's instruments had
been hopelessly smashed, and Curtis had no longer any compass by
which to direct his course, nor a sextant by which he might make
an observation.

Desperate, however, as our condition might be judged, hope did
not entirely abandon our hearts, and day after day, hour after
hour were our eyes strained towards the horizon, and many and
many a time did our imagination shape out the distant land. But
ever and again the illusion vanished; a cloud, a mist, perhaps
even a wave, was all that had deceived us; no land, no sail ever
broke the grey line that united sea and sky, and our raft
remained the centre of the wide and dreary waste.

On the 1st of January we swallowed our last morsel of biscuit.
The 1st of January! New Year's Day! What a rush of sorrowful
recollections overwhelmed our minds! Had we not always
associated the opening of another year with new hopes, new plans,
and coming joys? And now, where were we? Could we dare to look
at one another, and breathe a new year's greeting?

The boatswain approached me with a peculiar look on his
countenance.

"You are surely not going to wish me a happy new year?" I said.

"No indeed, sir," he replied, "I was only going to wish you well
through the first day of it; and that is pretty good assurance on
my part, for we have not another crumb to eat."

True as it was, we scarcely realized the fact of there being
actually nothing until on the following morning the hour came
round for the distribution of the scanty ration, and then,
indeed, the truth was forced upon us in a new and startling
light. Towards evening I was seized with violent pains in the
stomach, accompanied by a constant desire to yawn and gape that
was most distressing; but in a couple of hours the extreme agony
passed away, and on the 3rd I was surprised to find that I did
not suffer more. I felt, it is true, that there was some great
void within myself, but the sensation was quite as much moral as
physical. My head was so heavy that I could not hold it up; it
was swimming with giddiness, as though I were looking over a
precipice.

My symptoms were not shared by all my companions, some of whom
endured the most frightful tortures. Dowlas and the boatswain
especially, who were naturally