ert.

It was ten o'clock in the morning. The pangs of hunger and the torments
of thirst were racking me with redoubled vigour. All instinct of
self-preservation had left me, and I felt that the hour had come when
I must cease to suffer. Just as I was on the point of casting myself
headlong into the sea, a voice, which I recognized as Dowlas's; broke
upon my ear.

"Captain," he said, "we are going to draw lots."

Involuntarily I paused; I did not take my plunge, but returned to my
place upon the raft.

CHAPTER LIII.

JANUARY 26th.--All heard and understood the proposition; in fact, it had
been in contemplation for several days, but no one had ventured to put
the idea into words. However, it was done now; lots were to be drawn,
and to each would be assigned his share of the body of the one ordained
by fate to be the victim. For my own part, I profess that I was quite
resigned for the lot to fall upon myself. I thought I heard Andre
Letourneur beg for an exception to be made in favour of Miss Herbey, but
the sailors raised a murmur of dissent. As there were eleven of us on
board, there were ten chances to one in each one's favour, a proportion
which would be diminished if Miss Herbey were excluded, so that the
young lady was forced to take her chance among the rest.

It was then half-past ten, and the boatswain, who had been roused from
his lethargy by what the carpenter had said, insisted that the drawing
should take place immediately. There was no reason for postponing the
fatal lottery. There was not one of us that clung in the least to life,
and we knew that at the worst, whoever should be doomed to die, would
only precede the rest by a few days, or even hours. All that we desired
was just once to slake our raging thirst and moderate our gnawing
hunger.

How all the names found their way to the bottom of a hat I cannot
tell. Very likely Falsten wrote them upon a leaf torn from his
memorandum-book. But be that as it may, the eleven names were there, and
it was unanimously agreed that the last name drawn should be the victim.

But who would draw the names? There was hesitation for a moment; then,
"I will," said a voice behind me. Turning round, I beheld M. Letourneur
standing with outstretched hand, and with his long white hair falling
over his thin livid face that was almost sublime in its calmness. I
divined at once the reason of this voluntary offer; I knew that it was
the father's devotion in self-sacri