waists in water.  The original plan was, that as much provision as possible should be put upon this raft; that it should be taken in tow by the six boats; and that, at stated intervals, the crews should come on board to receive their rations.  As they left the ship, M. Correard asked whether the charts, instruments, and sea-stores were on board; and was told by an officer, that nothing was wanting.  “And who is to command us?” “I am to command you,” answered he, “and will be with you in a moment.”  The officer with these words, the last in his mouth, went on board one of the boats, and returned no more.

The desperate squadron had only proceeded three leagues, when a faulty, if not treacherous manoeuvre, broke the tow-line which fastened the captain’s boat to the raft; and this became the signal to all to let loose their cables.  The weather was calm.  The coast was known to be but twelve or fifteen leagues distant; and the land was in fact discovered by the boats on the very evening on which they abandoned the raft.  They were not therefore driven to this measure by any new perils; and the cry of “Nous les abandonons!” which resounded throughout the line, was the yell of a spontaneous and instinctive impulse of cowardice, perfidy, and cruelty; and the impulse was as unanimous as it was diabolical.  The raft was left to the mercy of the waves; one after another, the boats disappeared, and despair became general.  Not one of the promised articles, no provisions, except a very few casks of wine, and some spoiled biscuit, sufficient for one single meal was found.  A small pocket compass, which chance had discovered, their last guide in a trackless ocean, fell between the beams into the sea.  As the crew had taken no nourishment since morning, some wine and biscuit were distributed; and this day, the first of thirteen on the raft, was the last on which they tasted any solid food—­except such as human nature shudders at.  The only thing which kept them alive was the hope of revenge on those who had treacherously betrayed them.

The first night was stormy; and the waves, which had free access, committed dreadful ravages, and threatened worse.  When day appeared, twelve miserable wretches were found crushed to death between the openings of the raft, and several more were missing; but the number could not be ascertained, as several soldiers had taken the billets of the dead, in order to obtain two, or even three rations.  The second night was still more dreadful, and many were washed off; although the crew had so crowded together, that some were smothered by the mere pressure.  To soothe their last moments, the soldiers drank immoderately; and one, who affected to rest himself upon the side, but was treacherously cutting the ropes, was thrown into the sea.  Another whom M. Correard had snatched from the waves, turned traitor a second time, as soon as he had recovered his senses; but he too was killed.  At length the revolted, who were chiefly soldiers, threw themselves