JANUARY 1 to 5.—More than three months had elapsed since we left Charleston in the Chancellor1, and for no less than twenty days had we now been borne along on our raft at the mercy of the wind and waves. Whether we were approaching the American coast, or whether we were drifting farther and farther to sea, it was now impossible to determine, for, in addition to the other disasters caused by the hurricane, the captain's instruments had been hopelessly smashed, and Curtis had no longer any compass by which to direct his course, nor a sextant by which he might make an observation.
Desperate, however, as our condition might be judged, hope did not entirely3 abandon our hearts, and day after day, hour after hour were our eyes strained toward the far horizon, and many and many a time did our imagination shape out the distant land. But ever and again the illusion vanished; a cloud, a mist, perhaps even a wave, was all that had deceived us; no land, no sail ever broke the gray line that united sea and sky, and our raft remained the center of the wide and dreary4 waste.
On the 1st of January, we swallowed our last morsel5 of biscuit. The first of January! New Year's Day! What a rush of sorrowful recollections overwhelmed our minds! Had we not always associated the opening of another year with new hopes, new plans, and coming joys? And now, where were we? Could we dare to look at one another, and breathe a New Year's greeting?
The boatswain approached me with a peculiar6 look on his countenance7.
"You are surely not going to wish me a happy New Year?" I said.
"No indeed, sir," he replied, "I was only going to wish you well through the first day of it; and that is pretty good assurance on my part, for we have not another crumb8 to eat."
True as it was, we scarcely realized the fact of there being actually nothing until on the following morning the hour came round for the distribution of the scanty9 ration10, and then, indeed, the truth was forced upon us in a new and startling light. Toward evening I was seized with violent pains in the stomach, accompanied by a constant desire to yawn and gape11 that was most distressing12; but in a couple of hours the extreme agony passed away, and on the 3d I was surprised to find that I did not suffer more. I felt, it is true, that there was some great void within myself, but the sensation was quite as much moral as physical. My head was so heavy that I could not hold it up; it was swimming with giddiness, as though I were looking over a precipice14.
My symptoms were not shared by all my companions, some of whom endured the most frightful15 tortures. Dowlas and the boatswain especially, who were naturally large eaters, uttered involuntary cries of agony, and were obliged to gird themselves tightly with ropes to subdue16 the excruciating pain that was gnawing17 their very vitals.
And this was only the second day of our misery18! What would we not have given for half, nay19, for a quarter of the meager20 ration which a few days back we deemed so inadequate21 to supply our wants, and which now, eked22 out crumb by crumb, might, perhaps, serve for several days? In the streets of a besieged23 city, dire2 as the distress13 may be, some gutter24, some rubbish-heap, some corner may yet be found that will furnish a dry bone or a scrap25 of refuse that may for a moment allay26 the pangs27 of hunger; but these bare planks28, so many times washed clean by the relentless29 waves, offer nothing to our eager search, and after every fragment of food that the wind has carried into the interstices has been scraped out and devoured30, our resources are literally31 at an end.
The nights seem even longer than the days. Sleep, when it comes............