likely to live some days: all the rest, covered with large wounds, had
almost entirely lost their reason; yet they had a share in the distribution
of provisions, and might, before their death, consume thirty or forty
bottles of wine, which were of inestimable value to us. We deliberated
thus: to put the sick on half allowance would have been killing them by
inches. So after a debate, at which the most dreadful despair presided, it
was resolved to throw them into the sea. This measure, however repugnant it
was to ourselves, procured the survivors wine for six days; when the
decision was made, who would dare to execute it? The habit of seeing death
ready to pounce upon us as his prey, the certainly of our infallible
destruction, without this fatal expedient, every thing in a word, had
hardened our hearts, and rendered them callous to all feeling except that
of self preservation. Three sailors and a soldier took on themselves this
cruel execution: we turned our faces aside, and wept tears of blood over
the fate of these unhappy men. Among them were the unfortunate woman and
her husband. Both of them had been severely wounded in the various combats:
the woman had a thigh broken between the pieces of wood composing the raft,
and her husband had received a deep wound with a sabre on his head. Every
thing announced their speedy dissolution. We must seek to console
ourselves, by the belief, that our cruel resolution shortened, but for a
few moments only, the measure of their existence.

This French woman, to whom soldiers and Frenchmen gave the sea for a tomb,
had partaken for twenty years in the glorious fatigues of our armies; for
twenty years she had afforded to the brave, on the field of battle, either
the assistance which they needed, or soothing consolations ... It is in the
midst of her friends; it is by the hands of her friends ... Readers, who
shudder at the cry of outraged humanity, recollect at least, that it was
other men, fellow countrymen, comrades, who had placed us in this horrible
situation.