LXXIV. But ere they came to this, they that day shared LXXV. The lots were made, and mark'd, and mix'd, and handed, LXXVI. He but requested to be bled to death: You hardly could perceive when he was dead. He died, as born, a Catholic in faith, Like most in the belief in which they're bred; And first a little crucifix he kiss'd, And then held out his jugular and wrist. LXXVII. The surgeon, as there was no other fee, Had his first choice of morsels for his pains; But being thirstiest at the moment, he Preferr'd a draught from the fast-flowing veins: (4) Part was divided, part thrown in the sea, And such things as the entrails and the brains Regaled two sharks, who follow'd o'er the billowThe sailors ate the rest of poor Pedrillo. LXXVIII. The sailors ate him, all save three or four, (1) Being driven to distress for want of food, they soaked their shoes, and two hairy caps which were among them, in the water; which being rendered soft, each partook of them. Bat day after day having passed, and the cravings of hunger pressing hard upon them, they fell upon the horrible and dreadful expedient of eating each other; and in order to prevent any contention about who should become the food of the others, they cast lots to determine the sufferer." Sufferings of the Crew of the Thomas.-L. E. (2) "The lots were drawn: the captain, summoning all his strength, wrote upon slips of paper the name of each man, folded them up, put them into a hat, and shook them gether. The crew, meanwhile, preserved an awful silence; each eye was fixed and each mouth open, while terror was strongly impressed upon every countenance. The unhappy person, with manly fortitude, resigned himself to his miserable associates." Famine in the American Ship Peggy. -L. E. (3) "He requested to be bled to death, the surgeon being with them, and having his case of instruments in his pocket when he quitted the ship." Thomas.-L. E. (4) "No sooner had the fatal instrument touched the vein, than the operator applied his parched lips, and drank the blood as it flowed, while the rest anxiously watched the victim's departing breath, that they might proceed to satisfy the hunger which preyed upon them to so frightful a degree." Ibid.-L. E. (5) "Those who glutted themselves with human flesh and gore, and whose stomachs retained the unnatural food, soon perished with raging insanity," etc. Ibid.-L. E. (6)" Another expedient we had frequent recourse to, finding it supplied our mouths with temporary moisture, was chewing any substance we could find, generally a bit of canvass, or even lead." Juno.-L. E. (7) "On the 25th, at noon, we caught a noddy. I divided it into eighteen portions. In the evening, we caught two boobies." Bligh.-L. E. (8) "Quando ebbe detto ciò, con gli occhi torti Riprese il teschio misero co' denti, Che furo all' osso, come d'un can forti." The passage is thus powerfully rendered by Dante's last translator, Mr. Ichabod Wright "Then both my hands through anguish I did bite; I did so, sudden raised themselves upright, To eat the head of his arch-enemy LXXXIV. And the same night there fell a shower of rain, For which their mouths gaped, like the cracks of earth When dried to summer dust; till taught by pain, Or with a famish'd boat's-crew had your berth, LXXXV. It pour'd down torrents, but they were no richer And when they deem'd its moisture was complete, They wrung it out, and though a thirsty ditcher (1) Might not have thought the scanty draught so sweet As a full pot of porter, to their thinking They ne'er till now had known the joys of drinking. LXXXVI. And their baked lips, with many a bloody crack, Suck'd in the moisture, which like nectar stream'd; Their throats were ovens, their swoln tongues were black As the rich man's in hell, who vainly scream'd To beg the beggar, who could not rain back A drop of dew, when every drop had seem'd To taste of heaven-If this be true, indeed, Some Christians have a comfortable creed! Hard Earth! Why didst thou not beneath us cleave? The sixth day closed: then, groping with my hand, Inferno, canto xxx. v. 60.-L. E. (I) "In the evening there came on a squall, which brought the most seasonable relief, as it was accompanied with heavy rain we had no means of catching it, but by spreading out our clothes; catching the drops as they fell, or squeezing them out of our clothes." Centaur.-L. E. (2) "I particularly remember the following instances:Mr. Wade's boy, a stout healthy lad, died early, and almost without a groan; while another of the same age, but of a less promising appearance, held out much longer. Their fathers were both in the fore-top, when the boys were taken ill. Wade, hearing of his son's illness, answered, with indifference, that he could do nothing for him,' and left him to his fate." Juno.-L. E. (3) "The other father hurried down. By that time only three or four planks of the quarter-deck remained, just over the weather-quarter gallery. To this spot the unhappy man led his son, making him fast to the rail, to prevent his being washed away." Ibid.-L. E. (4) "Whenever the boy was seized with a fit of retching, the father lifted him up and wiped away the foam from his lips and if a shower came, he made him open his mouth to receive the drops, or gently squeezed them into it from a rag." Ibid.-L. E. LXXXVII. There were two fathers in this ghastly crew, But he died early; and when he was gone, The other father had a weaklier child, And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed, And when the wish'd-for shower at length was come, And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed, Brighten'd, and for a moment seem'd to roam, He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain Into his dying child's mouth-but in vain.(4) XC. The boy expired-the father held the clay, And look'd upon it long, and when at last Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, He watch'd it wistfully, until away 'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 't was cast: Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering. And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering. U (5) "In this affecting situation, both remained four er five days, till the boy expired. The unfortunate parent, as if unwilling to believe the fact, raised the body, looked fully at it, and when he could no longer entertain any dould, watched it in silence until it was carried off by sea; then wrapping himself in a piece of canvass, sunk down, and rose no more; though he must have lived two days longer, as we judged from the quivering of his limbs, when a ware broke over him." Ibid.-L. E. In alluding to Lord Byron's poetical version of this touching narrative, Moore observes:-"It will he felt. I think, by every reader, that this is one of the instances in which poetry must be content to yield the palm to prost There is a pathos in the last sentences of the seaman'ı recital which the artifices of metre and rhyme were sure ta disturb, and which indeed no verses, however beautifu. could half so naturally and powerfully express. In the collection of Shipwrecks and Disasters at Sea' to whic Lord Byron so skilfully had recourse for the technics knowledge and facts out of which he has composed his own powerful description, the reader will find the access of the loss of the Juno here referred to."-P. E. (6) "This sublime and terrific description of a shipwrec is strangely and disgustingly broken by traits of low huma? and buffoonery;-and we pass immediately from the moans of an agonising father fainting over his famished son, t facetious stories of Juan's begging the paw of his father's dog, and refusing a slice of his tutor!-as if it were a fine thing to be hard-hearted, and pity and compassion were d' only to be laughed at." Jeffrey.-L. E. I will answer your friend, who objects to the quick snoCESSION of fun and gravity, as if in that case the gravity did not (în intertion, at least) heighten the fun. His metaphor is, that we a never scorched and drenched at the same time: Blessings en bur experience! Ask him these questions about scorching and drench XCI. Now overhead a rainbow, bursting through The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea, Resting its bright base on the quivering blue; And all within its arch appear'd to be Clearer than that without, and its wide hue Wax'd broad and waving, like a banner free, Then changed like to a bow that's bent, and then Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwreck'd men. XCII. It changed, of course; a heavenly cameleon, (For sometimes we must box without the muffle). XCIII. Our shipwreck'd seamen thought it a good omen- XCIV. About this time a beautiful white bird, Upon its course), pass'd oft before their eyes, And tried to perch, although it saw and heard The men within the boat, and in this guise came and went, and flutter'd round them till Night fell:-this seem'd a better omen still. (3) XCV. But in this case I also must remark, Twas well this bird of promise did not perch, Because the tackle of our shatter'd bark Was not so safe for roosting as a church; (1) "Look upon the rainbow, and praise Him that made 4: very beautiful it is in its brightness; it encompasses the leavens with a glorious circle, and the hands of the Most High have bended it." Son of Sirach.-L. E. (2) An instrument, invented by Sir David Brewster, which pleases the eye by an ever-varying succession of splendid ints and symmetrical forms, and has been of great service suggesting patterns to our manufacturers.-L. E. (3)About this time a beautiful white bird, web-footed, and not unlike a dove in size and plumage, hovered over the ast-head of the cutter, and, notwithstanding the pitching of the boat, frequently attempted to perch on it, and conti ed to flutter there till dark. Trifling as this circumstance may appear, it was considered by us all as a propitious men." Loss of the Lady Hobart Packet.-L. E. ing. Did he never play at cricket, or walk a mile in hot weather? Did he never spill a dish of tea over himself in handing the cup to his charmer, to the great shame of his nankeen breeches? Did ne never swim in the sea at noon-day with the sun in his eyes and on his head, which all the foam of ocean could not cool? Did he never draw his foot out of too hot water, d-ing his eyes and his valet's? Did he never tumble into a river or lake, fishing, and sit in his wet clothes in the boat, or on the bank, afterwards, scorched and drenched,' like a true sportsman? Oh for breath to utter!-but make him my compliments; he is a clever fellow for all that-a very dever fellow."-Lord B. to Mr. Murray. Aug. 12, 1819. The boat sail'd, but their spirits were so low, (5) "I found it necessary to caution the people against being deceived by the appearance of land, or calling out till they were convinced of the reality, more especially as fogbanks are often mistaken for land: several of the poor fellows nevertheless repeatedly exclaimed they heard breakers, and some the firing of guns." Ibid.-L. E, (6) "At length one of them broke into a most immoderate swearing fit of joy, which I could not restrain, and declared, that he had never seen land in his life, if what he now saw was not land." Centaur.-L, E. (7) "The joy at a speedy relief affected us all in a most remarkable way. Many burst into tears; some looked at each other with a stupid stare, as if doubtful of the reality of what they saw; while several were in such a lethargic condition, that no animating words could rouse them to exertion. At this affecting period, I proposed offering up our solemn thanks to Heaven for the miraculous deliverance." Lady Hobart.-L. E. (8) "After having suffered the horrors of hunger and thirst for many days, they providentially took a small turtle whilst floating asleep on the surface of the water." Thomas. -L. E. CVI. So here, though faint, emaciated, and stark, That carried off his neighbour by the thigh; As for the other two, they could not swim, So nobody arrived on shore but him. CVII. Nor yet had he arrived but, for the oar, Which, providentially for him, was wash'd Just as his feeble arms could strike no more, And the hard wave o'erwhelm'd him as 't was dash'd Within his grasp; he clung to it, and sore The waters beat while he thereto was lash'd; At last, with swimming, wading, scrambling, he Roll'd on the beach, half senseless, from the sea: CVIII. There, breathless, with his digging nails he clung Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave, From whose reluctant roar his life he wrung, Should suck him back to her insatiate grave: And there he lay, full-length, where he was flung, Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave, With just enough of life to feel its pain, And deem that it was saved, perhaps, in vain. CIX. With slow and staggering effort he arose, Save one, a corpse from out the famish'd three, Who died two days before, and now had found An unknown barren beach for burial-ground. CX. And as he gazed, his dizzy brain spun fast, And down he sunk; and as he sunk, the sand How long in his damp trance young Juan lay He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, And tingling vein, seem'd throbbing back to life, For Death, though vanquish'd, still retired with strife (2) "They discovered land right ahead, and steered fo it. There being a very heavy surf, they endeavoured turn the boat's head to it, which, from weakness, they wer unable to complete, and soon afterwards the boat upset." Escape of Deserters from St. Helena.-L. E. |