Your labouring people think, beyond all question,
Beef, veal, and mutton, better for digestion.
LXVIII
And thus it was with this our hapless crew;
For on the third day there came on a calm,
And though at first their strength it might renew,
And lying on their weariness like balm,
Lulled them like turtles sleeping on the blue
Of Ocean, when they woke they felt a qualm,
And fell all ravenously on their provision,
Instead of hoarding it with due precision.
LXIX
The consequence was easily foreseen—
They ate up all they had, and drank their wine,
In spite of all remonstrances, and then
On what, in fact, next day were they to dine?
They hoped the wind would rise, these foolish men!
And carry them to shore; these hopes were fine,
But as they had but one oar, and that brittle,
It would have been more wise to save their victual.
LXX
The fourth day came, but not a breath of air,
And Ocean slumbered like an unweaned child:
The fifth day, and their boat lay floating there,
The sea and sky were blue, and clear, and mild—
With their one oar (I wish they had had a pair)
What could they do? and Hunger’s rage grew wild:
So Juan’s spaniel, spite of his entreating,
Was killed, and portioned out for present eating.191
LXXI
On the sixth day they fed upon his hide,
And Juan, who had still refused, because
The creature was his father’s dog that died,
Now feeling all the vulture in his jaws,
With some remorse received (though first denied)
As a great favour one of the fore-paws,192
Which he divided with Pedrillo, who
Devoured it, longing for the other too.
LXXII
The seventh day, and no wind—the burning sun
Blistered and scorched, and, stagnant on the sea,
They lay like carcasses; and hope was none,
Save in the breeze that came not: savagely
They glared upon each other—all was done,
Water, and wine, and food—and you might see
The longings of the cannibal arise
(Although they spoke not) in their wolfish eyes.
LXXIII
At length one whispered his companion, who
Whispered another, and thus it went round,
And then into a hoarser murmur grew,
An ominous, and wild, and desperate sound;
And when his comrade’s thought each sufferer knew,
’Twas but his own, suppressed till now, he found:
And out they spoke of lots for flesh and blood,
And who should die to be his fellow’s food.
LXXIV
But ere they came to this, they that day shared
Some leathern caps, and what remained of shoes;
And then they looked around them, and despaired,
And none to be the sacrifice would choose;
At length the lots were torn up,193 and prepared,
But of materials that must shock the Muse—
Having no paper, for the want of better,
They took by force from Juan Julia’s letter.
LXXV
The lots were made, and marked, and mixed, and handed,
In silent horror,194 and their distribution
Lulled even the savage hunger which demanded,
Like the Promethean vulture, this pollution;
None in particular had sought or planned it,
’Twas Nature gnawed them to this resolution,
By which none were permitted to be neuter—
And the lot fell on Juan’s luckless tutor.
LXXVI
He but requested to be bled to death:
The surgeon had his instruments, and bled195
Pedrillo, and so gently ebbed his breath,
You hardly could perceive when he was dead.
He died as born, a Catholic in faith,
Like most in the belief in which they’re bred,
And first a little crucifix he kissed,
And then held out his jugular and wrist.
LXXVII
The surgeon, as there was no other fee,
Had his first choice of morsels for his pains;
But being thirstiest at the moment, he
Preferred a draught from the fast-flowing veins:196
Part was divided, part thrown in the sea,
And such things as the entrails and the brains
Regaled two sharks, who followed o’er the billow—
The sailors ate the rest of poor Pedrillo.
LXXVIII
The sailors ate him, all save three or four,
Who were not quite so fond of animal food;
To these was added Juan, who, before
Refusing his own spaniel, hardly could
Feel now his appetite increased much more;
’Twas not to be expected that he should,
Even in extremity of their disaster,
Dine with them on his pastor and his master.
LXXIX
’Twas better that he did not; for, in fact,
The consequence was awful in the extreme;
For they, who were most ravenous in the act,
Went raging mad197—Lord! how they did blaspheme!
And foam, and roll, with strange convulsions racked,
Drinking salt-water like a mountain-stream,
Tearing, and grinning, howling, screeching, swearing,
And, with hyaena-laughter, died despairing.
LXXX
Their numbers were much thinned by this infliction,
And all the rest were thin enough, Heaven knows;
And some of them had lost their recollection,
Happier than they who still perceived their woes;
But others pondered on a new dissection,
As if not warned sufficiently by those
Who had already perished, suffering madly,
For having used their appetites so sadly.
LXXXI
And next they thought upon the master’s mate,
As fattest; but he saved himself, because,
Besides being much averse from such a fate,
There were some other reasons: the first was,
He had been rather indisposed of late;
And—that which chiefly proved his saving clause—
Was a small present made to him at Cadiz,
By general subscription of the ladies.
LXXXII
Of poor Pedrillo something still remained,
But was used sparingly—some were afraid,
And others still their appetites constrained,
Or but at times a little supper made;
All except Juan, who throughout abstained,
Chewing a piece of bamboo, and some lead:198
At length they caught two Boobies, and a Noddy,199
And then they left off eating the dead body.
LXXXIII
And if Pedrillo’s fate should shocking be,
Remember Ugolino200 condescends
To eat the head of his arch-enemy
The moment after he politely ends
His tale: if foes be food in Hell, at sea
’Tis surely fair to dine upon our friends,
When Shipwreck’s short allowance
