I withdrew with him to the larboard corner of the raft; and, as it was growing dusk, nobody observed what we were doing.
"Mr.Kazallon," M.Letourneur began in a low voice, "Andre is dying of hunger: he is growing weaker and weaker, and oh! I cannot, will not see him die!" He spoke passionately, almost fiercely, and I fully understood his feelings.

Taking his hand, I tried to reassure him.
"We will not despair yet," I said, "perhaps some passing ship--" "Ship!" he cried impatiently, "don't try to console me with empty commonplaces; you know as well as I do that there is no chance of falling in with a passing ship." Then, breaking off suddenly, he asked,--"How long is it since my son and all of you have had anything to eat ?" Astonished at his question, I replied that it was now four days since the biscuit had failed.
"Four days," he repeated; "well, then, it is eight since I have tasted anything.

I have been saving my share for my son." Tears rushed to my eyes; for a few moments I was unable to speak, and could only once more grasp his hand in silence.
"What do you want me to do ?" I asked at length.
"Hush! not so loud; some one will hear us," he said, lowering his voice, "I want you to offer it to Andre as though it came from yourself.

He would not accept it from me; he would think I had been depriving myself for him.

Let me implore you to do me this service and for your trouble," and here he gently stroked my hand, "for your trouble you shall have a morsel for yourself." I trembled like a child as I listened to the poor father's words, and my heart was ready to burst when I felt a tiny piece of biscuit slipped into my hand.
"Give it him," M.Letourneur went on under his breath, "give it him; but do not let any one see you; the monsters would murder you if they knew it.