into the sea by the remainder, who then, in
an access of repentance, threw the weapons
away too, all but one sabre. After that,
"the soldiers and sailors" were eager to
devour a butterfly which was seen fluttering
on the mast; after that, some of them
began to tell the stories of their lives;
and thus, with grim joking, and raging
thirst and reckless bathing among the
sharks which had now begun to follow the
raft, and general delirium and fever, they
were picked up by a ship: to the number,
and after the term of exposure, already
mentioned.

Are there any circumstances in this frightful
case, to account for its peculiar horrors?
Again, the reader shall judge. No discipline
worthy of the name had been observed aboard
the Medusa from the minute of her weighing
anchor. The captain had inexplicably delegated
his authority " to a man who did not belong to
the staff. He was an ex-officer of the marine,
who had just left an English prison, where
he had been for ten years." This man held
the ship's course against the protest of the
officers, who warned him what would come
of it. The work of the ship had been so ill
done, that even the common manoeuvres
necessary to the saving of a boy who fell
overboard, had been bungled, and the boy
had been needlessly lost. Important signals
had been received from one of the ships in
company, and neither answered nor reported
to the captain. The Medusa had been on
fire through negligence. When she struck,
desertion of duty, mean evasion and fierce
recrimination, wasted the precious moments. "It
is probable that if one of the first officers had
set the example, order would have been
restored; but every one was left to himself." The
most virtuous aspiration of which the soldiers
were sensible, was, to fire upon their officers,
and, failing that, to tear their eyes out and
rend them to pieces. The historians compute
that there were not in all upon the raft
—before the sick were thrown into the sea—
more than twenty men of decency, education,
and purpose enough, even to oppose
the maniacs. To crown all, they describe
the soldiers as "wretches who were not
worthy to wear the French uniform. They
were the scum of all countries, the refuse
of the prisons, where they had been collected
to make up the force. When, for the sake
of health, they had been made to bathe in
the sea (a ceremony from which some of
them had the modesty to endeavour to excuse
themselves), the whole crew had had ocular
demonstration that it was not upon their
breasts these heroes wore the insignia of the
exploits which had led to their serving the
state in the ports of Toulon. Brest, or
Rochefort." And is it with the scourged
and branded sweepings or the galleys
of France, in their debased condition of
eight-and-thirty years ago, that we shall
compare the flower of the trained
adventurous spirit of the English Navy, raised
by Parry, Franklin, Richardson, and
Back?

Nearly three hundred years ago, a
celebrated case of famine occurred in the
Jacques, a French ship, homeward-bound
from Brazil, with forty-five persons on board,
of whom twenty-five were the ship's company.
She was a crazy old vessel, fit for nothing but
firewood, and had been out four months, and
was still upon the weary seas far from land,
when her whole stock of provisions was
exhausted. The very maggots in the dust of
the bread-room had been eaten up, and
the parrots and monkeys brought from
Brazil by the men on board had been killed
and eaten, when two of the men died. Their
bodies were committed to the deep. At least
twenty days afterwards, when they had had
perpetual cold and stormy weather, and were
grown too weak to navigate the ship; when
they had eaten pieces of the dried skin of the
wild hog, and leather jackets and shoes, and
the horn-plates of the ship-lanterns, and all the
wax-candles; the gunner died. His body
likewise, was committed to the deep. They
then began to hunt for mice, so that it became
a common thing on board, to see skeleton-men
watching eagerly and silently at mouse-holes,
like cats. They had no wine and no water;
nothing to drink but one little glass of cider,
each, per day. When they were come to this
pass, two more of the sailors " died of hunger."
Their bodies likewise, were committed to the
deep. So long and doleful were these
experiences on the barren sea, that the people
conceived the extraordinary idea that another
deluge had happened, and there was no land
left. Yet, this ship drifted to the coast of
Brittany, and no " last resource " had ever
been appealed to. It is worth remarking
that, after they were saved, the captain
declared he had meant to kill somebody,
privately, next day. Whosoever has been
placed in circumstances of peril, with
companions, will know the infatuated pleasure
some imaginations take in enhancing
them and all their remotest possible
consequences, after they are escaped from, and
will know what value to attach to this
declaration.

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a ship's
master and fifteen men escaped from a wreck
in an open boat, which they weighed down
very heavy, and were at sea, with no fresh-
water, and nothing to eat but the floating
sea-weed, seven days and nights. " We will
all live or die together," said the master on
the third day, when one of the men proposed
to draw lots—not who should become the
last resource, but who should be thrown
overboard to lighten the boat. On the fifth
day, that man and another died. The rest
were ''very weak and praying for death;"
but these bodies also, were committed to
the deep.

In the reign of George the Third, the Wager,