for the first time since the wreck—for, she
had great fortitude and constancy, though
she was a little gentle woman. Old Mr.
Rarx then became quite ungovernable, tearing
what rags he had on him, raging in
imprecations, and calling to me that if I had
thrown the gold overboard (always the gold
with him!) I might have saved the child,
“And now,” says he, in a terrible voice,
“we shall founder, and all go to the
Devil, for our sins will sink us, when we have
no innocent child to bear us up!” We so
discovered with amazement, that this old
wretch had only cared for the life of the
pretty little creature dear to all of us, because
of the influence he superstitiously hoped she
might have in preserving him! Altogether
it was too much for the smith or armourer,
who was sitting next the old man, to bear.
He took him by the throat and rolled him
under the thwarts, where he lay still enough
for hours afterwards.

All that thirteenth night, Miss Coleshaw,
lying across my knees as I kept the helm,
comforted and supported the poor mother.
Her child, covered with a pea-jacket of mine,
lay in her lap. It troubled me all night to
think that there was no Prayer-Book among
us, and that I could remember but very few
of the exact words of the burial service.
When I stood up at broad day, all knew
what was going to be done, and I noticed
that my poor fellows made the motion of
uncovering their heads, though their heads
had been stark bare to the sky and sea for
many a weary hour. There was a long heavy
swell on, but otherwise it was a fair morning,
and there were broad fields of sunlight on the
waves in the east. I said no more than this.
“I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith
the Lord. He raised the daughter of Jairus
the ruler, and said she was not dead but
slept. He raised the widow’s son. He arose
himself, and was seen of many. He loved
little children, saying Suffer them to come
unto me and rebuke them not, for of such is
the kingdom of Heaven. In His name, my
friends, and committed to His merciful
goodness!” With those words I laid my rough
face softly on the placid little forehead, and
buried the Golden Lucy in the grave of the
Golden Mary.

Having had it on my mind to relate the end
of this dear little child, I have omitted
something from its exact place, which I will
supply here. It will come quite as well here
as anywhere else.

Foreseeing that if the boat lived through
the stormy weather, the time must come, and
soon come, when we should have absolutely
no morsel to eat, I had one momentous
point often in my thoughts. Although I had,
years before that, fully satisfied myself that
the instances in which human beings in the
last distress have fed upon each other, are
exceedingly few, and have very seldom indeed
(if ever) occurred when the people in distress,
however dreadful their extremity, have been
accustomed to moderate forbearance and
restraint—I say, though I had, long before,
quite satisfied my mind on this topic, I felt
doubtful whether there might not have been
in former cases some harm and danger from
keeping it out of sight and pretending not to
think of it. I felt doubtful whether some
minds, growing weak with fasting and
exposure, and having such a terrific idea to dwell
upon in secret, might not magnify it until it
got to have an awful attraction about it.
This was not a new thought of mine, for it
had grown out of my reading. However, it
came over me stronger than it had ever
done before—as it had reason for doing
—in the boat, and on the fourth day I
decided that I would bring out into the
light that unformed fear which must have
been more or less darkly in every brain
among us. Therefore, as a means of beguiling
the time and inspiring hope, I gave them the
best summary in my power of Bligh’s voyage
of more than three thousand miles, in an
open boat, after the Mutiny of the Bounty,
and of the wonderful preservation of that
boat’s crew. They listened throughout with
great interest, and I concluded by telling
them, that, in my opinion, the happiest
circumstance in the whole narrative was,
that Bligh, who was no delicate man
either, had solemnly placed it on
record therein that he was sure and certain
that under no conceivable circumstances
whatever, would that emaciated party who
had gone through all the pains of famine, have
preyed on one another. I cannot describe
the visible relief which this spread through
the boat, and how the tears stood in every
eye. From that time I was as well convinced
as Bligh himself that there was no danger,
and that this phantom, at any rate, did not
haunt us.

Now, it was a part of Bligh’s experience
that when the people in his boat were most
cast down, nothing did them so much good as
hearing a story told by one of their number.
When I mentioned that, I saw that it struck
the general attention as much as it did my
own, for I had not thought of it until I came
to it in my summary. This was on the day
after Mrs. Atherfield first sang to us. I
proposed that whenever the weather would
permit, we should have a story two hours
after dinner (I always issued the allowance I
have mentioned, at one o’clock and called it
by that name), as well as our song at sunset.
The proposal was received with a cheerful
satisfaction that warmed my heart within
me; and I do not say too much when I say
that those two periods in the four-and-twenty
hours were expected with positive pleasure,
and were really enjoyed, by all hands.
Spectres as we soon were in our bodily
wasting, our imaginations did not perish like
the gross flesh upon our bones. Music and
Adventure, two of the great gifts of