Chapter 47

CHAPTER XLVII.

JANUARY 18th.--After this excitement I awaited the approach of
day with a strange anxiety. My conscience told me that Hobart
had the right to denounce me in the presence of all my fellow-
passengers; yet my alarm was vain. The idea of my proceedings
being exposed by him was quite absurd; in a moment he would
himself be murdered without pity by the crew, if it should be
revealed that, unknown to them, he had been living on some
private store which, by clandestine cunning, he had reserved.
But, in spite of my anxiety, I had a longing for day to come.

The bit of food that I had thus stolen was very small; but small
as it was it had alleviated my hunger, and I was now tortured
with remorse, because I had not shared the meagre morsel with my
fellow-sufferers. Miss Herbey, Andre, his father, all had been
forgotten, and from the bottom of my heart I repented of my cruel
selfishness.

Meantime the moon rose high in the heavens, and the first streaks
of dawn appeared. There is no twilight in these low latitudes,
and the full daylight came well nigh at once. I had not closed
my eyes since my encounter with the steward, and ever since the
first blush of day I had laboured under the impression that I
could see some unusual dark mass half way up the mast. But
although it again and again caught my eye, it hardly roused my
curiosity, and I did not rise from the bundle of sails on which I
was lying to ascertain what it really was. But no sooner did the
rays of the sun fall full upon it than I saw at once that it was
the body of a man, attached to a rope, and swinging to and fro
with the motion of the raft.

A horrible presentiment carried me to the foot of the mast, and,
just as I had guessed, Hobart had hanged himself. I could not for
a moment; doubt that it was I myself that had impelled him to the
suicide. A cry of horror had scarcely escaped my lips, when my
fellow-passengers were at my side, and the rope was cut. Then
came the sailors. And what was it that made the group gather so
eagerly around the body? Was it a humane desire to see whether
any spark of life remained? No, indeed; the corpse was cold, and
the limbs were rigid; there was no chance that animation should
be restored. What then was it that kept them lingering so close
around? It was only too apparent what they were about to do.

But I did not, could not, look. I refused to take part in the
horrible repast that was proposed. Neither would Miss Herbey,
Andre nor his father, consent to alleviate their pangs of hunger
by such revolting means. I know nothing for certain as to what
Curtis did, and I did not venture to inquire; but of the others,
--Falsten, Dowlas, the boatswain, and all the rest,--I