to think of. For it is the gaze of cannibalism!

Yes, it has come to this, though no one has yet spoken of it; the thing
is only in their thoughts.

But as time passes, it assumes substantial shape, and threatens soon to
be the subject not only of speech, but action.

One or two show it more than the rest--Padilla most of all. In his
fierce eyes the unnatural craving is clearly recognisable--especially
when his glances are given to the fair forms moving in their midst.
There can be no mistaking that look of hungry concupiscence--the cold
calculating stare of one who would eat human flesh.

It is the mid-hour of the day, and there has been a long interregnum of
silence; none having said much on any subject, though there is a tacit
intelligence, that the thoughts of all are on the same.

Padilla, deeming the hour has arrived, breaks the ominous silence:

"_Amigos_!" he says--an old appellation, considering the proposal he is
about to make--"since there's no food obtainable, it's clear we've got
to die of starvation. Though, if we could only hold out a little
longer, something might turn up to save us. For myself, I don't yet
despair but that some coasting craft may come along; or they may see our
signal from the shore. It's only a question of time, and our being able
to keep alive. Now, how are we to do that?"

"Ay, how?" asks Velarde, as if secretly prompted to the question.

"Well," answers Padilla, "there's a way, and only one, that I can think
of. There's no need for all of us to die--at least, not yet. Some
_one_ should, so that the others may have a chance of being saved. Are
you all agreed to it!"

The interrogatory does not require to be more explicitly put. It is
quite comprehensible; and several signify assent, either by a nod, or in
muttered exclamations. A few make no sign, one way or the other; being
too feeble, and far gone, to care what may become of them.

"How do you propose, Padilla?"

It is again Velarde who questions.

Turning his eyes towards the grotto, in which the two ladies have taken
refuge from the hot rays of the sun, the ruffian replies:

"Well, _camarados_! I don't see why men should suffer themselves to be
starved to death, while women--"

Harry Blew does not permit him to finish his speech. Catching its
significance, he cries:

"Avast there! Not another word o' that. If any o' as has got to be
eaten, it must be a _man_. As for the women, they go last--not fi