The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 21

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,[124]

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 carca.s.ses; 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 hoa.r.s.er murmur grew, An ominous, and wild, and desperate sound; And when his comrade's thought each sufferer knew, 'T was 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,[125] 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,[126] and their distribution Lulled even the savage hunger which demanded, Like the Promethean vulture, this pollution; None in particular had sought or planned it, 'T was 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 bled[127]

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:[128]

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 appet.i.te increased much more; 'T was not to be expected that he should, Even in extremity of their disaster, Dine with them on his pastor and his master.

LXXIX.

'T was 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 mad[129]--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.

Lx.x.x.

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 appet.i.tes so sadly.

Lx.x.xI.

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.

Lx.x.xII.

Of poor Pedrillo something still remained, But was used sparingly,--some were afraid, And others still their appet.i.tes constrained, Or but at times a little supper made; All except Juan, who throughout abstained, Chewing a piece of bamboo, and some lead:[130]

At length they caught two b.o.o.bies, and a Noddy,[131]

And then they left off eating the dead body.

Lx.x.xIII.

And if Pedrillo's fate should shocking be, Remember Ugolino[132] condescends To eat the head of his arch-enemy The moment after he politely ends His tale: if foes be food in h.e.l.l, at sea 'T is surely fair to dine upon our friends, When s.h.i.+pwreck's short allowance grows too scanty, Without being much more horrible than Dante.

Lx.x.xIV.

And the same night there fell a shower of rain, For which their mouths gaped, like the cracks of earth When dried to summer dust; till taught by pain, Men really know not what good water's worth; If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, Or with a famished boat's-crew had your berth, Or in the desert heard the camel's bell, You'd wish yourself where Truth is--in a well.

Lx.x.xV.

It poured down torrents, but they were no richer Until they found a ragged piece of sheet, Which served them as a sort of spongy pitcher, And when they deemed its moisture was complete, They wrung it out, and though a thirsty ditcher[133]

Might not have thought the scanty draught so sweet As a full pot of porter, to their thinking They ne'er till now had known the joys of drinking.

Lx.x.xVI.

And their baked lips, with many a b.l.o.o.d.y crack,[134]

Sucked in the moisture, which like nectar streamed; Their throats were ovens, their swoln tongues were black, As the rich man's in h.e.l.l, who vainly screamed To beg the beggar, who could not rain back A drop of dew, when every drop had seemed To taste of Heaven--If this be true, indeed, Some Christians have a comfortable creed.

Lx.x.xVII.

There were two fathers in this ghastly crew, And with them their two sons, of whom the one Was more robust and hardy to the view, But he died early; and when he was gone, His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw One glance at him, and said, "Heaven's will be done!

I can do nothing," and he saw him thrown Into the deep without a tear or groan.[135]

Lx.x.xVIII.

The other father had a weaklier child, Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate;[136]

But the boy bore up long, and with a mild And patient spirit held aloof his fate; Little he said, and now and then he smiled, As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his father's heart, With the deep deadly thought, that they must part.

Lx.x.xIX.

And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed, And when the wished-for shower at length was come, And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed, Brightened, and for a moment seemed to roam, He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain Into his dying child's mouth--but in vain.[137]

XC.

The boy expired--the father held the clay, And looked upon it long, and when at last Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, He watched it wistfully, until away 'T was borne by the rude wave wherein't was cast;[138]

Then he himself sunk down all dumb and s.h.i.+vering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering.

XCI.

Now overhead a rainbow, bursting through The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea, Resting its bright base on the quivering blue; And all within its arch appeared to be Clearer than that without, and its wide hue Waxed broad and waving, like a banner free, Then changed like to a bow that's bent, and then Forsook the dim eyes of these s.h.i.+pwrecked men.

XCII.

It changed, of course; a heavenly Chameleon, The airy child of vapour and the sun, Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermilion, Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun, Glittering like crescents o'er a Turk's pavilion, And blending every colour into one, Just like a black eye in a recent scuffle (For sometimes we must box without the m.u.f.fle).