They were so tormented with famine that they talked, or rather whispered, of choosing one of their number by lot, that dreadful old expedient, and boiling him for a square meal; but the discovery of some rotten beef cast up from the wreck averted this procedure. They existed for a fortnight, and then a party of Indians appeared, among them a chief. He spoke a little Spanish, and an officer of the _Wager_ managed to convey to him that they desired guidance to the nearest white settlement. The promise of the barge as a gift persuaded the mercenary Patagonian to lead them out of the wilderness. Thirteen survivors were left of the twenty who had attempted to fare to the northward. The four marines had been left to their heroic fate, and three others had later died of hunger. The Indian chief had not bound himself to furnish food, and it soon appeared as though the castaways would all perish to a man before they came to the end of the journey. They were trying to pull the barge up a turbulent river with a rapid current, and there occurred an incident or two which illumined the characters of Midshipman Byron and Captain Cheap and showed what very different men they were. I quote the old record: Mr. Byron had hitherto steered the boat; but one of the men dropping down, and dying of fatigue, he was obliged to take his oar. While thus engaged, John Bosman, who was considered the stoutest man among them, fell from his seat under the thwarts, complaining that his strength was quite exhausted from want of food and that he should soon expire. While he lay in this manner, he would, every now and then, break out into the most pathetic wishes for some little sustenance, expressing that two or three mouthfuls might be the means of saving his life. At this time, the captain had a large piece of boiled seal by him and was the only one in possession of anything like a meal. But they were become so hardened to the sufferings of others and so much familiarized to similar scenes of misery that the poor man’s dying entreaties were in vain. Mr. Byron sat next him when he dropped, and having about five or six dried shell-fish in his pocket, put one from time to time in his mouth, which only served to prolong his misery. From this, however, death released him soon after his benefactor’s little supply was exhausted. For him, and the other man, a grave was made in the sand.