than we did when we knew we were alone
on the wide ocean, and that the beautiful
ship in which most of us had been securely
asleep within half an hour was gone for ever.
There was an awful silence in our boat, and
such a kind of palsy on the rowers and the
man at the rudder, that I felt they were
scarcely keeping her before the sea. I spoke
out then, and said, “Let every one here thank
the Lord for our preservation!” All the
voices answered (even the child’s), “We thank
the Lord!” I then said the Lord’s Prayer,
and all hands said it after me with a solemn
murmuring. Then I gave the word “Cheerily,
O men, Cherrily!” and I felt that they were
handling the boat again as a boat ought to be
handled.

The Surf-boat now burnt another blue-
light to show us where they were, and we
made for her, and laid ourselves as nearly
alongside of her as we dared. I had always
kept my boats with a coil or two of good
stout stuff in each of them, so both boats
had a rope at hand. We made a shift, with
much labor and trouble, to get near
enough to one another to divide the blue-
lights (they were no use after that night, for
the sea-water soon got at them), and to get a
tow-rope out between us. All night long we
kept together, sometimes obliged to cast off
the rope, and sometimes getting it out again,
and all of us wearying for the morning—which
appeared so long in coming that old Mr. Rarx
screamed out, in spite of his fears of me,
“The world is drawing to an end, and the
sun will never rise any more!”

When the day broke, I found that we were
all huddled together in a miserable manner.
We were deep in the water; being, as I found
on mustering, thirty-one in number, or at
least six too many. In the Surf-boat they
were fourteen in number, being at least four
too many. The first thing I did, was to get
myself passed to the rudder—which I took from
that time—and to get Mrs. Atherfield, her
child, and Miss Coleshaw, passed on to sit
next me. As to old Mr. Rarx, I put him in
the bow, as far from us as I could. And I put
some of the best men near us, in order that if
I should drop, there might be a skilful hand
ready to take the helm.

The sea moderating as the sun came
up, though the sky was cloudy and wild, we
spoke the other boat, to know what stores
they had, and to overhaul what we had. I
had a compass in my pocket, a small
telescope, a double-barrelled pistol, a knife, and a
fire-box and matches. Most of my men had
knives, and some had a little tobacco: some, a
pipe as well. We had a mug among us, and
an iron-spoon. As to provisions, there were
in my boat two bags of biscuit, one piece of
raw beef, one piece of raw pork, a bag of
coffee, roasted but not ground (thrown in, I
imagine, by mistake, for something else), two
small casks of water, and about half-a-gallon
of rum in a keg. The Surf-boat, having
rather more rum than we, and fewer to drink
it, gave us, as I estimated, another quart into
our keg. In return, we gave them three
double- handfuls of coffee, tied up in a piece of
a handkerchief; they reported that they had
aboard besides, a bag of biscuit, a piece of beef,
a small cask of water, a small box of lemons,
and a Dutch cheese. It took a long time
to make these exchanges, and they were not
made without risk to both parties; the sea
running quite high enough to make our
approaching near to one another very hazardous.
In the bundle with the coffee, I
conveyed to John Steadiman (who had a ship’s
compass with him), a paper written in
pencil, and torn from my pocket-book,
containing the course I meant to steer, in the
hope of making land, or being picked up by
some vessel—I say in the hope, though I had
little hope of either deliverance. I then
sang out to him, so as all might hear, that if
we two boats could live or die together, we
would; but, that if we should be parted by
the weather, and join company no more, they
should have our prayers and blessings, and
we asked for theirs. We then gave them
three cheers, which they returned, and I saw
the men’s heads droop in both boats as they
fell to their oars again.

These arrangements had occupied the general
attention advantageously for all, though
(as I expressed in the last sentence) they
ended in a sorrowful feeling. I now said a
few words to my fellow-voyagers on the
subject of the small stock of food on which our
lives depended if they were preserved from
the great deep, and on the rigid necessity of
our eking it out in the most frugal manner.
One and all replied that whatever allowance
I thought best to lay down should be strictly
kept to. We made a pair of scales out of a
thin scrap of iron-plating and some twine,
and I got together for weights such of the
heaviest buttons among us as I calculated
made up some fraction over two ounces. This
was the allowance of solid food served out
once a-day to each, from that time to the end;
with the addition of a coffee-berry, or
sometimes half a one, when the weather was very
fair, for breakfast. We had nothing else
whatever, but half a pint of water each per
day, and sometimes, when we were coldest
and weakest, a teaspoonful of rum each,
served out as a dram. I know how learnedly
it can be shown that rum is poison, but I
also know that in this case, as in all similar
cases I have ever read of—which are
numerous—no words can express the comfort and
support derived from it. Nor have I the
least doubt that it saved the lives of far
more than half our number. Having
mentioned half a pint of water as our daily
allowance, I ought to observe that sometimes
we had less, and sometimes we had more; for,
much rain fell, and we caught it in a canvas
stretched for the purpose.

Thus, at that tempestuous time of the