Eustace Scrubb's Journal Entries While Onboard The Dawn Treader
August 7th
Now have
been twenty-four hours on this ghastly boat if it isn’t a dream. All the time a
frightful storm has been raging (it’s a good thing I’m not seasick.) Huge waves
keep coming in over the front and I have seen the boat nearly go under any
number of times. All the others pretend to take no notice of this, either of
swank or because Harold says one of the most cowardly things ordinary people do
is to shut their eyes to Facts. It’s madness to come out into the sea in a
rotten little thing like this. Not much bigger then a lifeboat. And, of course,
absolutely primitive indoors. No proper saloon, no radio, no bathrooms, no
deck-chairs. I was dragged all over it yesterday evening and it would make
anyone sick to hear Caspian showing off his funny little toy boat as if it was
the Queen Mary. I tried to tell him what real ships are like, but he’s too
dense. E. and L., of course, didn’t back me up. I suppose a kid like L. doesn’t
realize the danger and E. is buttering up to C. as everyone does here. They
call him a King. I said I was a Republican but he had to ask me what that
meant! He doesn’t seem to know anything at all. Needless to say I’ve been put
in the worst cabin of the boat, a perfect dungeon, and Lucy has been given a
whole room on deck to herself, almost a nice room compared to the rest of this
place. C. says that’s because she’s a girl. I tried to make him see what
Alberta says, that all that sort of thing is really lowering girls but he was
too dense. Still, he might see that I shall be ill if I’m kept in that hole any
longer. E. says we mustn’t grumble because C. is sharing it with us himself to
make room for L. As if that didn’t make it more crowded and far worse. Nearly
forgot to say that there is also a kind of a Mouse thing that gives everyone
the most frightful cheek. The others can put up with it if they like but I
shall twist his tail pretty soon if he tries it on me. The food is frightful
too.
September 3
The first day for ages when I have been able to write. We
had been driven before a hurricane for thirteen days and nights. I know that
because I kept a careful count, though the others all say it was only twelve.
Pleasant to be embarked on a dangerous voyage with people who can’t even count
right! I have had a ghastly time, up and down enormous waves hour after hour,
usually wet to the skin, and not even an attempt at giving us proper meals.
Needless to say there’s no wireless or even a rocket, so no chance of signaling
anyone for help. It all proves what I keep on telling them, the madness of
setting out in a rotten little tub like this. It would be bad even if one was
with decent people instead of fiends in human form. Caspian and Edmund are
simply brutal to me. The night we lost our mast (there’s only a stump left
now), though I was not at all well, they forced me to come on deck and work
like a slave. Lucy shoved her oar in by saying that Reepicheep was longing to
go only he was too small. I wonder she doesn’t see that everything that little
beast does is all for the sake of showing off. Even at her age she ought to
have that amount of sense. Today the beastly boat is level at last and the
sun’s out and we have all been around jawing about what to do. We have food
enough, pretty beastly stuff most of it, to last for sixteen days. (The poultry
were all washed overboard. Even if they hadn’t been, the storm would have
stopped them from laying.) The real trouble is water. Two casks seem to have
got a leak knocked in them and are empty. (Narnian efficiency again.) On short
rations, half a pint a day each, we’ve got enough for twelve days.(There’s
still lots of rum and wine but even they realize that would only make them
thirstier.)
If we could, of course, the sensible thing would be to turn
west at once and make for the Lone Islands. But it took us eighteen days to get
where we are, running like mad with a gale behind us. Even if we got an east
wind it might take us far longer to get back. And at present there’s no wind at
all. As for rowing back, it would take far to long and Caspian says the men
couldn’t row on half a pint of water a day. I’m pretty sure this is wrong. I
tried to explain that perspiration really cools people down, so the men would
need less water if they were working. He didn’t take any notice of this, which
is always his way when he can’t think of an answer. The others all voted for
going on in the hope of finding land. I felt it my duty to point out that we
didn’t know there was any land ahead and tried to get them to see the dangers
of wishful thinking. Instead of producing a better plan they had the cheek to
ask me what I proposed. So I just explained coolly and quietly that I had been
kidnapped and brought away on this idiotic voyage without my consent, and it
was hardly my business to get them out of their scrape.
September 4
Still
becalmed. Very short rations for dinner and I got less than anyone. Caspian is
very clever at helping and thinks I don’t see it! Lucy for some reason tried to
make up to me by offering me some of hers but that interfering prig Edmund
wouldn’t let her. Pretty hot sun. Terribly thirsty all evening.
September 5
Still
becalmed and very hot. Felling rotten all day and am sure I’ve got a
temperature. Of course they haven’t the sense to keep a thermometer on board.
September 6
A horrible
day. Woke up in the night knowing I was feverish and must have a drink of
water. Any doctor would have said so. Heaven knows I’m the last person to try
to get any unfair advantage but I never dreamed that this water rationing would
be meant to apply to a sick man. In fact I would have woken the others up and
asked for some only I thought it would be selfish to wake them. So I just got
up and took me cup and tiptoed out of the Black Hole we slept in, taking great
care not to disturb Caspian and Edmund, for they’ve been sleeping badly since
the heat and the short water began. I always try to consider others whether
they are nice to me or not. I got out all right into the big room, if you can
call it a room, where the rowing benches and the luggage are. The thing of
water is at this end. All was going beautifully, but before I’d drawn a cupful
who should catch me but that little spy Reep. I tried to explain that I was
going on deck for a breath of air (the business about the water had nothing to
do with him) and he asked me why I had a cup. He made such a noise that the
whole ship was roused. They treated me scandalously. I asked, as I think anyone
would have, why Reepicheep was sneaking about the water cask in the middle of
the night. He said that he was too small to be any use on deck, he did sentry
over the water every night that one more man could go to sleep. Now comes their
rotten unfairness; they all believed him. Can you beat it?
I had to
apologize or the dangerous little brute would have been at me with his sword.
And then Caspian showed up in his true colors as a brutal tyrant and said out
loud for everyone to hear that anyone found ‘stealing’ water in future would
‘get two dozen’. I didn’t know what this meant till Edmund explained to me. It
comes in the sort of books those Pevensie kids read.
After this
cowardly threat Caspian changed his tune and started being patronizing. Said he
was sorry for me and that everyone felt just as feverish as I did and we must
all make the best of it, etc., etc. Odious stuck-up prig. Stayed in bed all day
today.
September 7
A little
wind today but still from the west. Made a few miles eastward with part of the
sail, set on what Drinian calls the jury-mast – that means the bowsprit set
upright and tied (they call it ‘lashed’) to the stump of the real mast. Still
terribly thirsty.
September 8
Still
sailing east. I stay in my bunk all day now and see no one except Lucy till he
two fiends come to bed. Lucy gives me a little of her water ration. She says
girls don’t get as thirsty as boys. I have often thought this but it ought to
me more generally known at sea.
September 9
Land in
sight; a very high mountain a long way off to the southeast.
September 10
The
mountain is bigger and clearer but still a long way off. Gulls again today for
the first time since I don’t know how long.
September 11
From the book of Narnia The Voyage of The Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis
