This day, the 18th of March, there remained only provisions for two days, although they limited their consumption to the bare necessaries of life.
All their science and intelligence could avail them nothing in their present position.They were in the hand of God.
Cyrus Harding was calm, Gideon Spilett more nervous, and Pencroft, a prey to sullen anger, walked to and fro on the rock.Herbert did not for a moment quit the engineer's side, as if demanding from him that assistance he had no power to give.Neb and Ayrton were resigned to their fate.
"Ah, what a misfortune! what a misfortune!" often repeated Pencroft."If we had but a walnut-shell to take us to Tabor Island! But we have nothing, nothing!""Captain Nemo did right to die," said Neb.
During the five ensuing days Cyrus Harding and his unfortunate companions husbanded their provisions with the most extreme care, eating only what would prevent them from dying of starvation.Their weakness was extreme.
Herbert and Neb began to show symptoms of delirium.
Under these circumstances was it possible for them to retain even the shadow of a hope? No! What was their sole remaining chance? That a vessel should appear in sight of the rock? But they knew only too well from experience that no ships ever visited this part of the Pacific.Could they calculate that, by a truly providential coincidence, the Scotch yacht would arrive precisely at this time in search of Ayrton at Tabor Island? It was scarcely probable; and, besides, supposing she should come there, as the colonists had not been able to deposit a notice pointing out Ayrton's change of abode, the commander of the yacht, after having explored Tabor Island without results, would again set sail and return to lower latitudes.