it into gold. It seemed as if all Nature were
quietly indifferent to the sufferings of the shipwrecked men, some of
whom had reached that terrible condition of starvation when all the
softer feelings of humanity seem dead, for, although no whisper of their
intention passed their lips, their looks told all too plainly that they
awaited the death of the cabin-boy with impatience, that they might
appease the intolerable pangs of hunger by resorting to cannibalism.

Charlie Brooke, who had been comforting the dying lad all day, and
whispering to him words of consolation from God's book from time to
time, knew well what those looks meant. So did the mate, who sat grim,
gaunt and silent at his post, taking no notice apparently of what went
on around him. Fortunately the poor boy was too far gone to observe the
looks of his mates.

There was a can of paraffin oil, which had been thrown into the boat
under the impression that it was something else. This had been avoided
hitherto by the starving men, who deemed it to be poisonous. That
evening the man called Jim lost control of himself, seized the can, and
took a long draught of the oil. Whether it was the effect of that we
cannot tell, but it seemed to drive him mad, for no sooner had he
swallowed it than he uttered a wild shout, drew his knife, sprang up and
leaped towards the place where the cabin-boy lay.

The mate, who had foreseen something of the kind, drew and levelled his
revolver, but before he could fire Charlie had caught the uplifted arm,
wrested the knife from the man, and thrust him violently back. Thus
foiled Jim sprang up again and with a maniac's yell leaped into the sea,
and swam resolutely away.

Even in their dire extremity the sailors could not see a comrade perish
with indifference. They jumped up, hastily got out the oars, and pulled
after him, but their arms were very weak; before they could overtake him
the man had sunk to rise no more.

It was while this scene was being enacted that the spirit of the
cabin-boy passed away. On ascertaining that he was dead Charlie covered
him with a tarpaulin where he lay, but no word was uttered by any one,
and the mate, with revolver still in hand, sat there--grim and silent--
holding the tiller as if steering, and gazing sternly on the horizon.
Yet it was not difficult to divine the thoughts of those unhappy and
sorely tried men. Some by their savage glare at the cover that
concealed the dead body sho