win and Cuffy | Page 2

teeth
became clenched. It was quite plain what he meant to do. As he held
the open knife over the dog's head, he muttered, "Am I to die for the
sake of a dog!"
Either the terrier's slumbers had come to an end naturally, at a fortunate
moment, or the master's voice had awakened it, for it opened its eyes,
raised its head, and looked up in the sailor's face. The hand with the
knife drooped a little. The dog rose and licked it. Hunger had done its
work on the poor creature, for it could hardly stand, yet it managed to
look in its master's face with that grave, simple gaze of self-forgetting
love, which appears to be peculiar to the canine race. The savage glare

of the seaman's eyes vanished. He dropped the knife.
"Thanks, Cuffy; thanks for stoppin' me. It would have been murder! No,
no, my doggie, you and I shall die together."
His voice sank into a murmur, partly from weakness and partly from
the ideas suggested by his concluding words.
"Die together!" he repeated, "surely it ain't come to that yet. Wot, John
Jarwin, you're not goin' to give in like that, are you? to haul down your
colours on a fine day with a clear sky like this overhead? Come, cheer
up, lad; you're young and can hold out a good while yet. Hey, old dog,
wot say you?"
The dog made a motion that would, in ordinary circumstances, have
resulted in the wagging of its tail, but the tail was powerless to respond.
At that moment a gull flew towards the raft; Jarwin watched it eagerly
as it approached. "Ah," he muttered, clasping his bony hand as tightly
over his heart as his strength would allow and addressing the gull, "if I
only had hold of you, I'd tear you limb from limb, and drink your
blood!"
He watched the bird intently as it flew straight over him. Leaning back,
he continued slowly to follow its flight, until his head rested on the
block of wood which had served him for a pillow. The support felt
agreeable, he forgot the gull, closed his eyes, and sank with a deep sigh
into a slumber that strongly resembled death.
Presently he awoke with a start, and, once more raising himself, gazed
round upon the sea. No ship was to be seen. How often he had gazed
round the watery circle with the same anxious look only to meet with
disappointment! The hills of the coral island were visible like a blue
cloud on the horizon, but Jarwin's eyes were too dim and worn out to
observe them.
"Come," he exclaimed, suddenly, scrambling to his feet, "rouse up,
Cuffy; you an' I ain't a-goin' to die without a good fight for life. Come

along, my hearty; we'll have another glass of grog--Adam's grog it is,
but it has been good grog to you an' me, doggie--an' then we shall have
another inspection o' the locker; mayhap there's the half of a crumb
left."
The comparatively cheery tone in which the sailor said this seemed to
invigorate the dog, for it rose and actually succeeded in wriggling its
tail as it staggered after its master--indubitable sign of hope and love
not yet subdued!
Jarwin went to a cask which still contained a small quantity of fresh
water. Three weeks before the point at which we take up his story, a
storm had left him and his dog the sole survivors on the raft of the crew
of a barque which had sprung a leak, and gone to the bottom. His
provision at the time was a very small quantity of biscuit and a cask of
fresh water. Several days before this the last biscuit had been consumed
but the water had not yet failed. Hitherto John Jarwin had husbanded
his provisions, but now, feeling desperate, he drank deeply of the few
remaining drops of that liquid which, at the time, was almost as vital to
him as his life-blood. He gave a full draught also to the little dog.
"Share and share alike, doggie," he said, patting its head, as it eagerly
lapped up the water; "but there's no wittles, Cuffy, an' ye don't care for
baccy, or ye should be heartily welcome to a quid."
So saying, the sailor supplied his own cheek with a small piece of his
favourite weed, and stood up on the highest part of the raft to survey
the surrounding prospect. He did so without much hope, for "hope
deferred" had at last made his heart sick. Suddenly his wandering gaze
became fixed and intense. He shaded his eyes with one hand, and
steadied himself against the mast with the other. There could be no
doubt of it! "Land ho!" he shouted,