Chapter 51

CHAPTER LI.

JANUARY 24th.--I have inquired more than once of Curtis if he has
the faintest idea to what quarter of the Atlantic we have
drifted, and each time he has been unable to give me a decided
answer, though from his general observation of the direction of
the wind and currents he imagines that we have been carried
westwards, that is to say, towards the land.

To-day the breeze has dropped entirely, but the heavy swell is
still upon the sea, and is an unquestionable sign that a tempest
has been raging at no great distance. The raft labours hard
against the waves, and Curtis, Falsten, and the boatswain, employ
the little energy that remains to them in strengthening the
joints. Why do they give themselves such trouble? Why not let
the few frail planks part asunder, and allow the ocean to
terminate our miserable existence? Certain it seems that our
sufferings must have reached their utmost limit, and nothing
could exceed the torture that we are enduring. The sky pours
down upon us a heat like that of molten lead, and the sweat that
saturates the tattered clothes that hang about our bodies goes
far to aggravate the agonies of our thirst. No words of mine can
describe this dire distress; these sufferings are beyond human
estimate.

Even bathing, the only means of refreshment that we possessed,
has now become impossible, for ever since Jynxtrop's death the
sharks have hung about the raft in shoals.

To-day I tried to gain a few drops of fresh water by evaporation,
but even with the exercise of the greatest patience, it was with
the utmost difficulty that I obtained enough to moisten a little
scrap of linen; and the only kettle that we had was so old and
battered, that it would not bear the fire, so that I was obliged
to give up the attempt in despair.

Falsten is now almost exhausted, and if he survives us at all, it
can only be for a few days. Whenever I raised my head I always
failed to see him, but he was probably lying sheltered somewhere
beneath the sails. Curtis was the only man who remained on his
feet, but with indomitable pluck he continued to stand on the
front of the raft, waiting, watching, hoping. To look at him,
with his unflagging energy, almost tempted me to imagine that he
did well to hope, but I dared nor entertain one sanguine thought;
and there I lay, waiting, nay, longing for death.

How many hours passed away thus I cannot tell, but after a time a
loud peal of laughter burst upon my ear Some one else, then, was
going mad, I thought; but the idea did not rouse me in the least.
The laughter was repeated with greater vehemence, but I never
raised my head. Presently I caught a few incoherent words.

"Fields, fields, gardens and trees!