Mark Twain - The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg and Other Stories

north-west and get in the track of Sandwich Island-bound vessels,

living as best we can in the meantime. To-day we changed to one

meal, and that at about noon, with a small ration or water at 8 or 9

A.M., another at 12 A.M., and a third at 5 or 6 P.M.

Nothing left but a little piece of ham and a gill of water, all

around.—Captain's Log.

They are down to one meal a day now—such as it is—and fifteen hundred miles to crawl yet! And now the horrors deepen, and, though they escaped actual mutiny, the attitude of the men became alarming. Now we seem to see why that curious incident happened, so long ago; I mean Cox's return, after he had been far away and out of sight several days in the chief mate's boat. If he had not come back the captain and the two young passengers might have been slain, now, by these sailors, who were becoming crazed through their sufferings.

NOTE SECRETLY PASSED BY HENRY TO HIS BROTHER:

Cox told me last night that there is getting to be a good deal of

ugly talk among the men against the captain and us aft. They say

that the captain is the cause of all; that he did not try to save

the ship at all, nor to get provisions, and that even would not let

the men put in some they had; and that partiality is shown us in

apportioning our rations aft.... asked Cox the other day if he

would starve first or eat human flesh. Cox answered he would

starve.... then told him he would only be killing himself. If we

do not find those islands we would do well to prepare for anything.

.... is the loudest of all.

REPLY:

We can depend on... I think, and... and Cox, can we not?

SECOND NOTE:

I guess so, and very likely on...; but there is no telling... and

Cox are certain. There is nothing definite said or hinted as yet,

as I understand Cox; but starving men are the same as maniacs. It

would be well to keep a watch on your pistol, so as to have it and

the cartridges safe from theft.

Henry's Log, June 5. Dreadful forebodings. God spare us from all

such horrors! Some of the men getting to talk a good deal. Nothing

to write down. Heart very sad.

Henry's Log, June 6. Passed some sea-weed and something that looked

like the trunk of an old tree, but no birds; beginning to be afraid

islands not there. To-day it was said to the captain, in the

hearing of all, that some of the men would not shrink, when a man

was dead, from using the flesh, though they would not kill.

Horrible! God give us all full use of our reason, and spare us from

such things! 'From plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and

murder, and from sudden death, good Lord, deliver us!'

(Diary entry) June 6. Latitude 16 degrees 30 minutes, longitude

(chron.) 134 degrees. Dry night and wind steady enough to require

no change in sail; but this A.M. an attempt to lower it proved

abortive. First the third mate tried and got up to the block, and

fastened a temporary arrangement to reeve the halyards through, but

had to come down, weak and almost fainting, before finishing; then

Joe tried, and after twice ascending, fixed it and brought down the

block; but it was very exhausting work, and afterward he was good

for nothing all day. The clue-iron which we are trying to make

serve for the broken block works, however, very indifferently, and

will, I am afraid, soon cut the rope. It is very necessary to get

everything connected with the sail in good easy running order before

we get too weak to do anything with it.

Only three meals left.—Captain's Log.

(Diary entry) June 7. Latitude 16 degrees 35 minutes N., longitude

136 degrees 30 minutes W. Night wet and uncomfortable. To-day

shows us pretty conclusively that the American Isles are not there,

though we have had some signs that looked like them. At noon we

decided to abandon looking any farther for them, and to-night haul a

little more northerly, so as to get in the way of Sandwich Island

vessels, which fortunately come down pretty well this way—say to

latitude 19 degrees to 20 degrees to get the benefit of the

trade-winds. Of course all the westing we have made is gain, and I

hope the chronometer is wrong in our favour, for I do not see how

any such delicate instrument can keep good time with the constant

jarring and thumping we get from the sea. With the strong trade we

have, I hope that a week from Sunday will put us in sight of the

Sandwich Islands, if we are not safe by that time by being picked

up.

It is twelve hundred miles to the Sandwich Islands; the provisions are virtually exhausted, but not the perishing diarist's pluck.

(Diary entry) My cough troubled me a good deal last night, and

therefore I got hardly any sleep at all. Still, I make out pretty

well, and should not complain. Yesterday the third mate mended the

block, and this P.M. the sail, after some difficulty, was got down,

and Harry got to the top of the mast and rove the halyards through

after some hardship, so that it now works easy and well. This

getting up the mast is no easy matter at any time with the sea we

have, and is very exhausting in our present state. We could only

reward Harry by an extra ration of water. We have made good time

and course to-day. Heading her up, however, makes the boat ship

seas and keeps us all wet; however, it cannot be helped. Writing is

a rather precarious thing these times. Our meal to-day for the

fifteen consists of half a can of 'soup and boullie'; the other half

is reserved for to-morrow. Henry still keeps up grandly, and is a

great favourite. God grant he may be spared.

A better feeling prevails among the men.—Captain's Log.

(Diary entry) June 9. Latitude 17 degrees 53 minutes. Finished

to-day, I may say, our whole stack of provisions.(2) We have only

left a lower end of a ham-bone, with some of the outer rind and

skin on. In regard to the water, however, I think we have got ten

days' supply at our present rate of allowance. This, with what

nourishment we can get from boot-legs and such chewable matter, we

hope will enable us to weather it out till we get to the Sandwich

Islands, or, sailing in the meantime in the track of vessels

thither bound, be picked up. My hope is in the latter, for in all

human probability I cannot stand the other. Still, we have been

marvellously protected, and God, I hope, will preserve us all in

His own good time and way. The men are getting weaker, but are

still quiet and orderly.

(Diary entry) Sunday, June 10. Latitude 18 degrees 40 minutes,

longitude 142 degrees 34 minutes. A pretty good night last night,

with some wettings, and again another beautiful Sunday. I cannot

but think how we should all enjoy it at home, and what a contrast is

here! How terrible their suspense must begin to be! God grant that

it may be relieved before very long, and He certainly seems to be

with us in everything we do, and has preserved this boat

miraculously; for since we left the ship we have sailed considerably

over three thousand miles, which, taking into consideration our

meagre stock of provisions, is almost unprecedented. As yet I do

not feel the stint of food so much as I do that of water. Even

Henry, who is naturally a good water-drinker, can save half of his

allowance from time to time, when I cannot. My diseased throat may

have something to do with that, however.

Nothing is now left which by any flattery can be called food. But they must manage somehow for five days more, for at noon they have still eight hundred miles to go. It is a race for life now.