he was, and weak as an infant—couldn’t eat: so I was obliged to boil the seal-beef and give him the gravy by spoonfuls. Just like a child he was, and, when he hadn’t got the spoon to his lips, kept saying, ‘A sail! A sail!’ as if he hadn’t said it five hundred times before.
“It was hard work, for I was getting weak, and so sore round the waist, ankles, and neck, I could hardly bear to move; and you see I couldn’t let Sands lie there right in the boy’s sight, so I took him round to the other side. It took me about three hours to get him there. I might have thrown him off altogether, but I didn’t want any suspicion of foul-play, and there might have been if he’d been missing when we were found.
“This I carried on for some five days or so,—eating and feeding the boy was all I could do.
“I let the lamps alone, for I was too bad to get to trim them, and lay all day in a sort of stupid fit, half-asleep—half not.
“It kept getting hotter over head all the time, and it was enough to frighten one to see how the ice melted, pouring down in streams like a waterfall all day and all night. I could almost tell the time of day by the sound of the falling water. Mid-day it was a regular roar, and then about three or four o’clock in the morning it was almost still. You could almost see it melt. Two or three days after this the boy still kept muttering, ‘A sail!—a sail!’ I began to get dizzy and queer like—couldn’t see now and then. I thought it would soon be all up with me.
“At last I seemed to grow blind—couldn’t open my eyes nor move at all. Still I could tell it was getting towards evening, for the sound of the fall was less; but I couldn’t move to give the boy anything nor to get anything myself; indeed I didn’t seem to care about it, nor about him neither, for that matter.
“I wasn’t in pain—rather the other; very pleasant sort of feeling, for I was lying on Sands’ coat and my own. Then I fell asleep.
“I don’t know any more till I came to, as the women call it.
“I was in a bunk of a small barque, I could tell that by the short pitch she made. Long ships always pitch slower. I heard somebody say: ‘He’s all right, doctor.’
“So I was in a little while—sat up and asked for food. Lord bless you, sir, how good it was; I never tasted anything half as sweet as that beef-tea the doctor gave me. Nice!—I can’t tell how nice it was. You see I’d been getting up an appetite for it. Whether I should like to go to the same school again to learn how nice beef-tea could be, I don’t know—rather think not.
“In a few days I was well—rather thin and pale, I think, to what I am now—and then I asked them how they found me.
“‘Mate’ll tell you,’ says the Captain, ‘give you his log, you can copy it if you like.’
“I did, and here it is, a fair copy—it looks nice, you see, by the side of these others, cause they were written when the paper was soaked with water and my fingers were numbed with cold, and written with pencil, too. This I wrote in the Captain’s cabin with a pen. I kept it in the same book, tho’ the paper was bad, so as to have it altogether.
“I took the book, and with Mr. Stevens’ permission, copied the log again:
“Barque Esmeralda, June 21st.—Wind S.W.S.,—rather heavy; got sun long. 42° 10′ lat. 44°, 15′. Wind steady—twelve o’clock—sighted a sail three points starboard-bow—couldn’t see name—carpenter finished new spanker-boom—opened hatches, took up 3 casks beef and 1 bottle porter. About two o’clock sighted an iceberg right a-head—passenger wanted to see it nearer—Captain ordered to steer accordingly. About four could make out shape. Mr. Burton said he could see two black and white birds on it with the glass—was quite sure; half-past four saw that they were a man and a boy—lowered quarter-boat starboard, and went to fetch them off; they lay on a shelf about six feet out of the water—some difficulty to get at them—sent up three men and lowered them into the boat. They seemed dead—went round and found another man—lowered him into the boat—took off three seal-skulls with black wicks in them; been used as lamps; clothing, and also three guns. Brought all aboard. Doctor said one man—the one found alone—was quite dead; the others not dead. Had baths in the Captain’s cabin. Boy came to and said, ‘A sail! a sail!’ and kept on saying it: the man seemed nearly dead. After four hours—about half-past eight—he came to, and said, ‘Where’s the boy?’ Told him he was all right—Took in stun-sails—Wind shifted two points—Iceberg hull down at ten—lost sight of it at twelve.
“June 22nd.—Wind S.S.W.—Heavy rain—man better—boy still keeps saying, ‘A sail! a sail!’ Doctor says he’s quite mad—man not allowed to talk—buried the dead man—marks on clothing, ‘J. Sands;’ clothing good, but much worn and sodden.
“‘Esther’ marked on the arm in blue points with red capitals. Two flags and a half moon under, with a part of a head on it—may be the picture of half a coin of some kind—no other marks on the body. Doctor read prayers.
“Wind shifted, and blew rather heavy from S.W. Took in the main royal.
“June 23rd. Man better; boy still muttering when not being fed; can’t eat yet; man got up at four o’clock and came on deck; said his name was Stevens; that they got on the berg in May from the Belle of Aberdeen. Out twenty-nine days when he went off. We found him next day, the 30th out we expect. Doctor says another day would have killed them both. The man, Sands, died the 24th day out, at night.
“‘There, that’s the log,’ said Ben, ‘and now I can tell you the rest, for I was well on the fourth day; though not strong—could walk about the deck. The doctor gave me some ointment for my throat and waist, and I was all right in about a week.
“The boy, too, got better, and left off muttering. Doctor read to him, made him work about the ship, and tried all sorts of ways to make him think of something else.
“In another fortnight I said good-bye to the