Chapter 40

CHAPTER XL.

JANUARY 7th.--During the last few days since the wind has
freshened, the salt water constantly dashing over the raft has
terribly punished the feet and legs of some of the sailors.
Owen, whom the boatswain ever since the revolt kept bound to the
mast, is in a deplorable state, and at our request has been
released from his restraint. Sandon and Burke are also suffering
from the severe smarting caused in this way, and it is only owing
to our more sheltered position on the aft-part of the raft, that
we have not; all shared the same inconvenience.

Today the boatswain, maddened by starvation, laid hands upon
everything that met his voracious eyes, and I could hear the
grating of his teeth as he gnawed at fragments of sails and bits
of wood, instinctively endeavouring to fill his stomach by
putting the mucus' into circulation at length, by dint of an
eager search, he came upon a piece of leather hanging to one of
the spars that supported the platform. He snatched it off and
devoured it greedily, and as it was animal matter, it really
seemed as though the absorption of the substance afforded him
some temporary relief. Instantly we all followed his example; a
leather hat, the rims of caps, in short, anything that contained
any animal matter at all, were gnawed and sucked with the utmost
avidity. Never shall I forget the scene. We were no longer
human, the impulses and instincts of brute beasts seemed to
actuate our every movement.

For a moment the pangs of hunger were somewhat allayed; but some
of us revolted against the loathsome food, and were seized either
with violent nausea or absolute sickness. I must be pardoned for
giving these distressing details, but how otherwise can I depict
the misery, moral and physical, which we are enduring? And with
it all, I dare not venture to hope that we have reached the
climax of our sufferings.

The conduct of Hobart during the scene that I have just described
has only served to confirm my previous suspicions of him. He
took no part in the almost fiendish energy with which we gnawed
at our scraps of leather, and although by his conduct and
perpetual groanings, he might be considered to be dying of
inanition, yet to me he has the appearance of being singularly
exempt from the tortures which we are all enduring. But whether
the hypocrite is being sustained, by some secret store of food, I
have been unable to discover.

Whenever the breeze drops the heat is overpowering; but although
our allowance of water is very meagre, at present the pangs of
hunger far exceed the pain of thirst. It has often been remarked
that extreme thirst is far less endurable than extreme hunger.
Is it possible that still greater agonies are