r
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 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 str