When the day broke, I found that we were all huddled together in a miserable manner.  We were deep in the water; being, as I found on mustering, thirty-one in number, or at least six too many.  In the Surf-boat they were fourteen in number, being at least four too many.  The first thing I did, was to get myself passed to the rudder—­which I took from that time—­and to get Mrs. Atherfield, her child, and Miss Coleshaw, passed on to sit next me.  As to old Mr. Rarx, I put him in the bow, as far from us as I could.  And I put some of the best men near us in order that if I should drop there might be a skilful hand ready to take the helm.

The sea moderating as the sun came up, though the sky was cloudy and wild, we spoke the other boat, to know what stores they had, and to overhaul what we had.  I had a compass in my pocket, a small telescope, a double-barrelled pistol, a knife, and a fire-box and matches.  Most of my men had knives, and some had a little tobacco:  some, a pipe as well.  We had a mug among us, and an iron spoon.  As to provisions, there were in my boat two bags of biscuit, one piece of raw beef, one piece of raw pork, a bag of coffee, roasted but not ground (thrown in, I imagine, by mistake, for something else), two small casks of water, and about half-a-gallon of rum in a keg.  The Surf-boat, having rather more rum than we, and fewer to drink it, gave us, as I estimated, another quart into our keg.  In return, we gave them three double handfuls of coffee, tied up in a piece of a handkerchief; they reported that they had aboard besides, a bag of biscuit, a piece of beef, a small cask of water, a small box of lemons, and a Dutch cheese.  It took a long time to make these exchanges, and they were not made without risk to both parties; the sea running quite high enough to make our approaching near to one another very hazardous.  In the bundle with the coffee, I conveyed to John Steadiman (who had a ship’s compass with him), a paper written in pencil, and torn from my pocket-book, containing the course I meant to steer, in the hope of making land, or being picked up by some vessel—­I say in the hope, though I had little hope of either deliverance.  I then sang out to him, so as all might hear, that if we two boats could live or die together, we would; but, that if we should be parted by the weather, and join company no more, they should have our prayers and blessings, and we asked for theirs.  We then gave them three cheers, which they returned, and I saw the men’s heads droop in both boats as they fell to their oars again.

These arrangements had occupied the general attention advantageously for all, though (as I expressed in the last sentence) they ended in a sorrowful feeling.  I now said a few words to my fellow-voyagers on the subject of the small stock of food on which our lives depended if they were preserved from the great deep, and on the rigid necessity of our eking it out in the most frugal manner.  One and all replied that