In less
than an hour after this, our mainyard swung round, throwing the
topsail aback, and the well-known launch of the John rounded-to close
under our lee; a rope was thrown, and the boat was hauled alongside.
Everybody in the Tigris was shocked when we came to get a look at the
condition of the strangers. One man, a powerful negro, lay dead in the
bottom of the boat; the body having been kept for a dreadful
alternative, in the event of his companions falling in with no other
relief. Three more of the men were nearly gone, and had to be whipped
on board as so many lifeless bales of goods. Captain Robbins and Kite,
both athletic, active men, resembled spectres, their eyes standing out
of their heads as if thrust from their sockets by some internal foe;
and when we spoke to them, they all seemed unable to answer. It was
not fasting, or want of food, that had reduced them to this state, so
much as want of water. It is true, they had no more bread left than
would keep body and soul together for a few hours longer; but of water
they had tasted not a drop for seventy odd hours! It appeared that,
during the gale, they had been compelled to empty the breakers to
lighten the boat, reserving only one for their immediate wants. By
some mistake, the one reserved was nearly half-empty at the time; and
Captain Robbins believed himself then so near Bourbon, as not to go on
an allowance until it was too late.
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