The raft was left to the mercy of the waves; one after another, the boats disappeared, and despair became general.  Not one of the promised articles, no provisions, except a very few casks of wine, and some spoiled biscuit, sufficient for one single meal was found.  A small pocket compass, which chance had discovered, their last guide in a trackless ocean, fell between the beams into the sea.  As the crew had taken no nourishment since morning, some wine and biscuit were distributed; and this day, the first of thirteen on the raft, was the last on which they tasted any solid food—­except such as human nature shudders at.  The only thing which kept them alive was the hope of revenge on those who had treacherously betrayed them.

The first night was stormy; and the waves, which had free access, committed dreadful ravages, and threatened worse.  When day appeared, twelve miserable wretches were found crushed to death between the openings of the raft, and several more were missing; but the number could not be ascertained, as several soldiers had taken the billets of the dead, in order to obtain two, or even three rations.  The second night was still more dreadful, and many were washed off; although the crew had so crowded together, that some were smothered by the mere pressure.  To soothe their last moments, the soldiers drank immoderately; and one, who affected to rest himself upon the side, but was treacherously cutting the ropes, was thrown into the sea.  Another, whom M. Correard had snatched from the waves, turned traitor a second time, as soon as he recovered his senses; but he too was killed.  At length the revolted, who were chiefly soldiers, threw themselves upon their knees, and abjectly implored mercy.  At midnight, however, they rebelled again.  Those who had no arms, fought with their teeth, and thus many severe wounds were inflicted.  One was most wantonly and dreadfully bitten above the heel, while his companions were beating him upon the head with their carbines, before throwing him into the sea.  The raft was strewed with dead bodies, after innumerable instances of treachery and cruelty; and from sixty to sixty-five perished that night.  The force and courage of the strongest began to yield to their misfortunes; and even the most resolute labored under mental derangement.  In the conflict, the revolted had thrown two casks of wine, and all the remaining water, into the sea; and it became necessary to diminish each man’s share.

A day of comparative tranquillity succeeded.  The survivors erected their mast again, which had been wantonly cut down in the battle of the night; and endeavored to catch some fish, but in vain.  They were reduced to feed on the dead bodies of their companions.  A third night followed, broken by the plaintive cries of wretches, exposed to every kind of suffering, ten or twelve of whom died of want, and awfully foretold the fate of the remainder.  The following day was fine.  Some flying fish were caught in the raft; which, mixed up with human flesh, afforded one scanty meal.