80 THE SEA. 



with the greatest difficulty. They threw overboard M. Coudin, an elderly man, who was 

 covered with wounds received in opposing them, and a young boy of the party, in whom he 

 took an interest. M. Coudin had the presence of mind both to support the child and to 

 take hold of the raft ; and his friends kept off the brutal soldiery with drawn swords, until 

 they were lifted on board again. The combat was so fierce, and the weather at night so 

 bad, that on the return of day it was found that over sixty had perished off the raft. It 

 is stated that the mutineers had thrown over the remaining water and two casks of wine. 

 The indications in the narrative would not point to the latter conclusion, as the soldiers 

 and workmen were constantly intoxicated, and many, no doubt, were washed off by the 

 waves in that condition. A powerful temperance tract might be written on the loss of 

 the Medusa. ' On the morning of the fourth day after their departure from the frigate, the 

 dead bodies of twelve of the company, who had expired during the night, were lying on 

 the raft. This day a shoal of flying-fish played round the raft, and a number of them 

 got on board,* and were entangled in the spaces between the timbers. A small fire, lighted 

 with flint and steel and gunpowder, was made inside a barrel, and the fish, half-cooked, 

 was greedily devoured. They did not stop here; the account briefly indicates that they 

 ate parts of the flesh of their dead companions. Horror followed horror : a massacre 

 succeeded their savage feast. Some Spaniards, Italians, and negroes among them, who 

 had hitherto taken no part with the mutineers, now formed a plot to throw their superiors 

 into the sea. A bag of money, which had been collected as a common fund, and was 

 hanging from a rude mast hastily extemporised, probably tempted them. The officers' 

 party threw their ringleader overboard, while another of the conspirators, finding his villainy 

 discovered, weighted himself with a heavy boarding-axe, and rushing to the fore part of 

 the raft, plunged headlong into the sea and was drowned. A desperate combat ensued, 

 and the fatal raft was quickly piled with dead bodies. 



On the fifth morning, there were only thirty alive. The remnant suffered severely, 

 and one-third of the number were unable to stand up or move about. The salt water and 

 intense heat of the sun blistered their feet and legs, and gave intense pain. In the course 

 of the seventh day, two soldiers were discovered stealing the wine, and they were immediately 

 pushed overboard. This day also, Leon, the poor little boy mentioned before, died from 

 sheer starvation. 



The story has been so far nothing but a record of insubordination, murderous brutality, 

 and utter selfishness. But the worst has yet to come. Let the survivors tell their own 

 shameful and horrible story. There were now but twenty-seven left, and " of these twelve, 

 amongst them the woman, were so ill that there was no hope of their surviving, even a 

 few days ; they were covered with wounds, and had almost entirely lost their reason. 

 They might have lived long enough to reduce our stock to a very low ebb ; but there 

 was no hope that they could last more than a few days. To put them on short allowance 

 was only hastening their death ; while giving them a full ration, was uselessly diminishing 



* The writer, during a long voyage (England to Vancouver Island, via Cape Horn), made in 1862, saw flying- 

 fish, constantly falling on the deck, where they remained quivering and glittering in the sunlight. To accomplish 

 this, they had to fly over a height of about fifteen or sixteen feet, the top of the bulwarks, or walls of the steamship, 

 being at least that distance above the water. 



