all black with frost-bite. It was impossible to be warm, although
we now had double the garments we had started with.

Five weeks after the loss of the Negociator the trouble over the
food came to a head. I was asleep at the time--it was night--when

Captain Nicholl caught Jud Hetchkins stealing from the pork barrel.
That he was abetted by the other five men was proved by their

actions. Immediately Jud Hetchkins was discovered, the whole six
threw themselves upon us with their knives. It was close, sharp

work in the dim light of the stars, and it was a mercy the boat was
not overturned. I had reason to be thankful for my many shirts and

coats which served me as an armour. The knife-thrusts scarcely more
than drew blood through the so great thickness of cloth, although I

was scratched to bleeding in a round dozen of places.
The others were similarly protected, and the fight would have ended

in no more than a mauling all around, had not the mate, Walter
Dakon, a very powerful man, hit upon the idea of ending the matter

by tossing the mutineers overboard. This was joined in by Captain
Nicholl, the surgeon, and myself, and in a trice five of the six

were in the water and clinging to the gunwale. Captain Nicholl and
the surgeon were busy amidships with the sixth, Jeremy Nalor, and

were in the act of throwing him overboard, while the mate was
occupied with rapping the fingers along the gunwale with a boat-

stretcher. For the moment I had nothing to do, and so was able to
observe the tragic end of the mate. As he lifted the stretcher to

rap Seth Richards' fingers, the latter, sinking down low in the
water and then jerking himself up by both hands, sprang half into

the boat, locked his arms about the mate and, falling backward and
outboard, dragged the mate with him. Doubtlessly he never relaxed

his grip, and both drowned together.
Thus left alive of the entire ship's company were three of us:

Captain Nicholl, Arnold Bentham (the surgeon), and myself. Seven
had gone in the twinkling of an eye, consequent on Jud Hetchkins'

attempt to steal provisions. And to me it seemed a pity that so
much good warm clothing had been wasted there in the sea. There was

not one of us who could not have managed gratefully" target="_blank" title="ad.感激地">gratefully with more.
Captain Nicholl and the surgeon were good men and honest. Often

enough, when two of us slept, the one awake and steering could have
stolen from the meat. But this never happened. We trusted one

another fully, and we would have died rather than betray that trust.
We continued to content ourselves with half a pound of meat each per

day, and we took advantage of every favouring breeze to work to the
north'ard. Not until January fourteenth, seven weeks since the

wreck, did we come up with a warmer latitude. Even then it was not
really warm. It was merely not so bitterly cold.

Here the fresh westerlies forsook us and we bobbed and blobbed about
in doldrummy weather for many days. Mostly it was calm, or light

contrary winds, though sometimes a burst of breeze, as like as not
from dead ahead, would last for a few hours. In our weakened

condition, with so large a boat, it was out of the question to row.
We could merely hoard our food and wait for God to show a more

kindly face. The three of us were faithful Christians, and we made
a practice of prayer each day before the apportionment of food.

Yes, and each of us prayed privately, often and long.
By the end of January our food was near its end. The pork was

entirely gone, and we used the barrel for catching and storing
rainwater. Not many pounds of beef remained. And in all the nine

weeks in the open boat we had raised no sail and glimpsed no land.
Captain Nicholl frankly admitted that after sixty-three days of dead

reckoning he did not know where we were.
The twentieth of February saw the last morsel of food eaten. I

prefer to skip the details of much that happened in the next eight
days. I shall touch only on the incidents that serve to show what

manner of men were my companions. We had starved so long, that we
had no reserves of strength on which to draw when the food utterly

ceased, and we grew weaker with great rapidity.
On February twenty-fourth we calmly talked the situation over. We

were three stout-spirited men, full of life and toughness, and we
did not want to die. No one of us would volunteer to sacrifice

himself for the other two. But we agreed on three things: we must
have food; we must decide the matter by casting lots; and we would

cast the lots next morning if there were no wind.
Next morning there was wind, not much of it, but fair, so that we

were able to log a sluggish two knots on our northerly course. The
mornings of the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh found us with a

similar breeze. We were fearfully weak, but we abided by our
decision and continued to sail.

But with the morning of the twenty-eighth we knew the time was come.
The longboat rolled drearily on an empty, windless sea, and the

stagnant, overcast sky gave no promise of any breeze. I cut three
pieces of cloth, all of a size, from my jacket. In the ravel of one

of these pieces was a bit of brown thread. Whoever drew this lost.
I then put the three lots into my hat, covering it with Captain

Nicholl's hat.
All was ready, but we delayed for a time while each prayed silently

and long, for we knew that we were leaving the decision to God. I
was not unaware of my own honesty and worth; but I was equally aware

of the honesty and worth of my companions, so that it perplexed me
how God could decide so fine-balanced and delicate a matter.

The captain, as was his right and due, drew first. After his hand
was in the hat he delayed for sometime with closed eyes, his lips

moving a last prayer. And he drew a blank. This was right--a true
decision I could not but admit to myself; for Captain Nicholl's life

was largely known to me and I knew him to be honest, upright, and
God-fearing.

Remained the surgeon and me. It was one or the other, and,
according to ship's rating, it was his due to draw next. Again we

prayed. As I prayed I strove to quest back in my life and cast a
hurried tally-sheet of my own worth and unworth.

I held the hat on my knees with Captain Nicholl's hat over it. The
surgeonthrust in his hand and fumbled about for some time, while I

wondered whether the feel of that one brown thread could be detected
from the rest of the ravel.

At last he withdrew his hand. The brown thread was in his piece of
cloth. I was instantly very humble and very grateful for God's

blessing thus extended to me; and I resolved to keep more faithfully
than ever all of His commandments. The next moment I could not help

but feel that the surgeon and the captain were pledged to each other
by closer ties of position and intercourse than with me, and that

they were in a measure disappointed with the outcome. And close
with that thought ran the conviction that they were such true men

that the outcome would not interfere with the plan arranged.
I was right. The surgeon bared arm and knife and prepared to open a

great vein. First, however, he spoke a few words.
"I am a native of Norfolk in the Virginias," he said, "where I

expect I have now a wife and three children living. The only favour
that I have to request of you is, that should it please God to

deliver either of you from your perilous situation, and should you
be so fortunate as to reach once more your native country, that you

would acquaint my unfortunate family with my wretched fate."
Next he requested courteously of us a few minutes in which to

arrange his affairs with God. Neither Captain Nicholl nor I could
utter a word, but with streaming eyes we nodded our consent.

Without doubt Arnold Bentham was the best collected of the three of
us. My own anguish was prodigious, and I am confident that Captain

Nicholl suffered equally. But what was one to do? The thing was
fair and proper and had been decided by God.

But when Arnold Bentham had completed his last arrangements and made
ready to do the act, I could contain myself no longer, and cried

out:
"Wait! We who have endured so much surely can endure a little more.

It is now mid-morning. Let us wait until twilight. Then, if no