This dreadful expedient saved the fifteen who remained; for, when we were
found by the Argus, we had very little wine left, and it was the sixth day
after the cruel sacrifice which we have just described: the victims, we
repeat it, had not above forty-eight hours to live, and by keeping them on
the raft, we should absolutely have been destitute of the means of
existence two days before we were found. Weak as we were, we considered it
as certain that it would have been impossible for us to hold out, even
twenty-four hours, without taking some food. After this catastrophe, which
inspired us with a degree of horror not to be overcome, we threw the arms
into the sea; we reserved, however, one sabre in case it should be wanted
to cut a rope or piece of wood.

After all this, we had scarcely sufficient food on the raft, to last for
the six days, and they were the most wretched immaginable. Our dispositions
had become soured: even in sleep, we figured to ourselves the sad end of
all our unhappy companions, and we loudly invoked death.

A new event, for every thing was an _event_ for wretches for whom the
universe was reduced to a flooring of a few toises in extent, who were the
sport of the winds and waves, as they hung suspended over the abyss; an
event then happened which happily diverted our attention from the horrors
of our situation. All at once a white butterfly, of the species so common
in France, appeared fluttering over our heads, and settled on our sail. The
first idea which, as it were, inspired each of us made us consider this
little animal as the harbinger, which brought us the news of a speedy
approach to land, and we snatched at this hope with a kind of delirium of
joy. But it was the ninth day that we passed upon the raft; the torments of
hunger consumed our entrails; already some of the soldiers and sailors
devoured, with haggard eyes, this wretched prey, and seemed ready to