Mark Twain - The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg and Other Stories

Two quarts bread-crumbs left, one-third of a ham, three small cans

of oysters, and twenty gallons of water.—Captain's Log.

The hopeful tone of the diaries is persistent. It is remarkable. Look at the map and see where the boat is: latitude 16 degrees 44 minutes, longitude 119 degrees 20 minutes. It is more than two hundred miles west of the Revillagigedo Islands, so they are quite out of the question against the trades, rigged as this boat is. The nearest land available for such a boat is the American group, six hundred and fifty miles away, westward; still, there is no note of surrender, none even of discouragement! Yet, May 30, 'we have now left: one can of oysters; three pounds of raisins; one can of soup; one-third of a ham; three pints of biscuit-crumbs.'

And fifteen starved men to live on it while they creep and crawl six hundred and fifty miles. 'Somehow I feel much encouraged by this change of course (west by north) which we have made to-day.' Six hundred and fifty miles on a hatful of provisions. Let us be thankful, even after thirty-two years, that they are mercifully ignorant of the fact that it isn't six hundred and fifty that they must creep on the hatful, but twenty-two hundred!

Isn't the situation romantic enough just as it stands? No. Providence added a startling detail: pulling an oar in that boat, for common seaman's wages, was a banished duke—Danish. We hear no more of him; just that mention, that is all, with the simple remark added that 'he is one of our best men'—a high enough compliment for a duke or any other man in those manhood-testing circumstances. With that little glimpse of him at his oar, and that fine word of praise, he vanishes out of our knowledge for all time. For all time, unless he should chance upon this note and reveal himself.

The last day of May is come. And now there is a disaster to report: think of it, reflect upon it, and try to understand how much it means, when you sit down with your family and pass your eye over your breakfast-table. Yesterday there were three pints of bread-crumbs; this morning the little bag is found open and some of the crumbs are missing. 'We dislike to suspect any one of such a rascally act, but there is no question that this grave crime has been committed. Two days will certainly finish the remaining morsels. God grant us strength to reach the American group!' The third mate told me in Honolulu that in these days the men remembered with bitterness that the 'Portyghee' had devoured twenty-two days' rations while he lay waiting to be transferred from the burning ship, and that now they cursed him and swore an oath that if it came to cannibalism he should be the first to suffer for the rest.

(Diary entry) The captain has lost his glasses, and therefore he

cannot read our pocket prayer-books as much as I think he would

like, though he is not familiar with them.

Further of the captain: 'He is a good man, and has been most kind to us—almost fatherly. He says that if he had been offered the command of the ship sooner he should have brought his two daughters with him.' It makes one shudder yet to think how narrow an escape it was.

The two meals (rations) a day are as follows: fourteen raisins and a

piece of cracker the size of a penny for tea; a gill of water, and a

piece of ham and a piece of bread, each the size of a penny, for

breakfast.—Captain's Log.

He means a penny in thickness as well as in circumference. Samuel Ferguson's diary says the ham was shaved 'about as thin as it could be cut.'

(Diary entry) June 1. Last night and to-day sea very high and

cobbling, breaking over and making us all wet and cold. Weather

squally, and there is no doubt that only careful management—with

God's protecting care—preserved us through both the night and the

day; and really it is most marvellous how every morsel that passes

our lips is blessed to us. It makes me think daily of the miracle

of the loaves and fishes. Henry keeps up wonderfully, which is a

great consolation to me. I somehow have great confidence, and hope

that our afflictions will soon be ended, though we are running

rapidly across the track of both outward and inward bound vessels,

and away from them; our chief hope is a whaler, man-of-war, or some

Australian ship. The isles we are steering for are put down in

Bowditch, but on my map are said to be doubtful. God grant they may

be there!

Hardest day yet.—Captain's Log.

Doubtful! It was worse than that. A week later they sailed straight over them.

(Diary entry) June 2. Latitude 18 degrees 9 minutes. Squally,

cloudy, a heavy sea.... I cannot help thinking of the cheerful and

comfortable time we had aboard the 'Hornet.'

Two days' scanty supplies left—ten rations of water apiece and a

little morsel of bread. BUT THE SUN SHINES AND GOD IS MERCIFUL.

—Captain's Log.

(Diary entry) Sunday, June 3. Latitude 17 degrees 54 minutes.

Heavy sea all night, and from 4 A.M. very wet, the sea breaking

over us in frequent sluices, and soaking everything aft,

particularly. All day the sea has been very high, and it is a

wonder that we are not swamped. Heaven grant that it may go down

this evening! Our suspense and condition are getting terrible. I

managed this morning to crawl, more than step, to the forward end of

the boat, and was surprised to find that I was so weak, especially

in the legs and knees. The sun has been out again, and I have dried

some things, and hope for a better night.

June 4. Latitude 17 degrees 6 minutes, longitude 131 degrees 30

minutes. Shipped hardly any seas last night, and to-day the sea has

gone down somewhat, although it is still too high for comfort, as we

have an occasional reminder that water is wet. The sun has been out

all day, and so we have had a good drying. I have been trying for

the last ten or twelve days to get a pair of drawers dry enough to

put on, and to-day at last succeeded. I mention this to show the

state in which we have lived. If our chronometer is anywhere near

right, we ought to see the American Isles to-morrow or next day. If

there are not there, we have only the chance, for a few days, of a

stray ship, for we cannot eke out the provisions more than five or

six days longer, and our strength is failing very fast. I was much

surprised to-day to note how my legs have wasted away above my

knees: they are hardly thicker than my upper arm used to be. Still,

I trust in God's infinite mercy, and feel sure he will do what is

best for us. To survive, as we have done, thirty-two days in an

open boat, with only about ten days' fair provisions for thirty-one

men in the first place, and these divided twice subsequently, is

more than mere unassisted HUMAN art and strength could have

accomplished and endured.

Bread and raisins all gone.—Captain's Log.

Men growing dreadfully discontented, and awful grumbling and

unpleasant talk is arising. God save us from all strife of men; and

if we must die now, take us himself, and not embitter our bitter

death still more.—Henry's Log.

(Diary entry) June 5. Quiet night and pretty comfortable day,

though our sail and block show signs of failing, and need taking

down—which latter is something of a job, as it requires the

climbing of the mast. We also had news from forward, there being

discontent and some threatening complaints of unfair allowances,

etc., all as unreasonable as foolish; still, these things bid us be

on our guard. I am getting miserably weak, but try to keep up the

best I can. If we cannot find those isles we can only try to make