He heard a few of the castaways whispering about drawing lots and “consigning one man to death for the support of the rest.” This was different than when some of the men had earlier cannibalized dead bodies. This was killing a companion for food—a grisly ritual later imagined by the poet Lord Byron: The lots were made, and marked, and mixed, and handed, In silent horror, and their distribution Lulled even the savage hunger which demanded, Like the Promethean vulture, this pollution. In the end, the castaways could not go this far.
