visions taken from the magazine of Granite House before the
catastrophe, a little fresh water from the rain which had fallen in a
hollow of the rock, was all that the unfortunate colonists possessed.
Their last hope, the vessel, had been shattered to pieces. They had no
means of quitting the reef; no fire, nor any means of obtaining it. It
seemed that they must inevitably perish.

This day, the 18th of March, there remained only provisions for two
days, although they limited their consumption to the bare necessaries of
life. All their science and intelligence could avail them nothing in
their present position. They were in the hand of God.

Cyrus Harding was calm, Gideon Spilett more nervous, and Pencroft, a
prey to sullen anger, walked to and fro on the rock. Herbert did not
for a moment quit the engineer's side as if demanding from him that
assistance he had no power to give. Neb and Ayrton were resigned to
their fate.

"Ah, what a misfortune! what a misfortune!" often repeated Pencroft.
"If we had but a walnut-shell to take us to Tabor Island! But we have
nothing, nothing!"

"Captain Nemo did right to die," said Neb.

During the five ensuing days Cyrus Harding and his unfortunate
companions husbanded their provisions with the most extreme care, eating
only what would prevent them from succumbing to starvation. Their
weakness was extreme. Herbert and Neb began to show symptoms of
delirium.

Under these circumstances was it possible for them to retain even the
shadow of a hope? No! What was their sole remaining chance? That a
vessel should appear in sight off the rock? But they knew only too well
from experience that no ships ever visited this part of the Pacific.
Could they calculate that, by a truly providential coincidence, the
Scotch yacht would arrive precisely at this time in search of Ayrton at
Tabor Island? It was scarcely probable; and, besides, supposing she
should come there, as the colonists had not been able to deposit a
notice pointing out Ayrton's change of abode, the commander of the
yacht, after having explored Tabor Island without result, would again
set sail and return to lower latitudes.

No! no hope of being saved could be retained, and a horrible death,
death from hunger and thirst, awaited them upon this rock.

Already they were stretched on the rock, inanimate, and no longer
conscious of what passed around them. Ayrton alone, by a supreme
effort, from time to time raised