that person A received an orange in addition to his two philosophy books, while person B continued to receive three oranges, the prior state would have been shown to be Pareto inefficient.
What does all this have to do with trolleyology? Well, take the unusual case of Captain Tom Dudley.
Cannibalism on the High Seas
On July 25, 1884, Captain Dudley, a short man with red hair, stabbed, killed, and later began to eat his cabin boy. Some months later, this devout Anglican would be charged with and then found guilty of willful murder. He was sentenced to be “hanged by the neck until you be dead.” But the then Home Secretary, Sir William Harcourt, knew the public would never tolerate such a punishment—and along with his fellow defendant, Edwin Stephens, Tom Dudley had his sentence commuted to six months in jail.
It was an unusual case, and one still cited in the courts. Dudley had openly admitted to the killing, and was stunned as well as indignant that it should be considered a crime. He had just survived an horrific experience, and was now having to relive it. He must have felt a sense of vindication when the cabin boy’s brother approached him in court and, far from haranguing him, made a very public show of courteously shaking his hand.
Standing in the dock, and speaking in a pronounced Essex accent, Tom Dudley recounted his story. Twenty days before the murder, he, Richard Parker (the cabin boy), and two other men, Stephens and Edmund Brooks, had been in the middle of the Atlantic en route from England to Australia. Their mission was to deliver a yacht, The Mignonette , to its new owners.
They were well over a thousand miles from land when a terrible storm erupted and their yacht rapidly began to sink. They clambered into a lifeboat. In the chaos, all they managed to salvage from The Mignonette were two tins of turnips. Three weeks on, they were close to starvation. At seventeen, Parker was the youngest as well as the weakest. There had been little rainfall, and they had all been drinking their own urine, which Parker had supplemented with seawater. He had now begun to drift in and out of consciousness. The others were in a terrible state too. Scorched in daylight, cold at night, their feet had swollen, their bodies had sores.
This is where some details of the story become hazy, but according to Tom Dudley, he proposed a radical solution: they should draw lots and then one of them should be sacrificed for food. Brooks objected. He thought it was better they all die together. Dudley said, “So let it be, but it is hard for four to die, when perhaps one might save the rest.” 7
A few hours later, Dudley spoke to Stephens, a conversation that Brooks would claim not to have heard. Dudley asked, ‘‘What is to be done?” and he gave his answer, “I believe the boy is dying. You have a wife and five children, and I have a wife and three children. Human flesh has been eaten before.” 8
That night Dudley and Stephens stabbed Parker in the jugular with a penknife. For four days Dudley and Stephens fedoff Parker’s carcass (and drank his blood). Brooks, despite his denunciation of the crime, joined in: indeed, he ate heartily, more than Stephens, who was desperately feeble. The author of a book on the episode, Brian Simpson, writes that “The grim thought must have occurred to Stephens that he, as the weakest, was likely to be next on the menu.” 9
Miraculously, still drifting hundreds of miles from land, they were spotted by a German boat returning from South America to Hamburg. The compassionate captain and his crew watered and fed them, and slowly they regained a little of their strength. When they eventually sailed into the Cornish port of Falmouth, they provided a full written explanation of what had happened—common practice when a ship was lost. Not imagining that any legal process would ensue, Dudley spared few details. The decision to prosecute them was not taken lightly. But the Home Secretary
What does all this have to do with trolleyology? Well, take the unusual case of Captain Tom Dudley.
Cannibalism on the High Seas
On July 25, 1884, Captain Dudley, a short man with red hair, stabbed, killed, and later began to eat his cabin boy. Some months later, this devout Anglican would be charged with and then found guilty of willful murder. He was sentenced to be “hanged by the neck until you be dead.” But the then Home Secretary, Sir William Harcourt, knew the public would never tolerate such a punishment—and along with his fellow defendant, Edwin Stephens, Tom Dudley had his sentence commuted to six months in jail.
It was an unusual case, and one still cited in the courts. Dudley had openly admitted to the killing, and was stunned as well as indignant that it should be considered a crime. He had just survived an horrific experience, and was now having to relive it. He must have felt a sense of vindication when the cabin boy’s brother approached him in court and, far from haranguing him, made a very public show of courteously shaking his hand.
Standing in the dock, and speaking in a pronounced Essex accent, Tom Dudley recounted his story. Twenty days before the murder, he, Richard Parker (the cabin boy), and two other men, Stephens and Edmund Brooks, had been in the middle of the Atlantic en route from England to Australia. Their mission was to deliver a yacht, The Mignonette , to its new owners.
They were well over a thousand miles from land when a terrible storm erupted and their yacht rapidly began to sink. They clambered into a lifeboat. In the chaos, all they managed to salvage from The Mignonette were two tins of turnips. Three weeks on, they were close to starvation. At seventeen, Parker was the youngest as well as the weakest. There had been little rainfall, and they had all been drinking their own urine, which Parker had supplemented with seawater. He had now begun to drift in and out of consciousness. The others were in a terrible state too. Scorched in daylight, cold at night, their feet had swollen, their bodies had sores.
This is where some details of the story become hazy, but according to Tom Dudley, he proposed a radical solution: they should draw lots and then one of them should be sacrificed for food. Brooks objected. He thought it was better they all die together. Dudley said, “So let it be, but it is hard for four to die, when perhaps one might save the rest.” 7
A few hours later, Dudley spoke to Stephens, a conversation that Brooks would claim not to have heard. Dudley asked, ‘‘What is to be done?” and he gave his answer, “I believe the boy is dying. You have a wife and five children, and I have a wife and three children. Human flesh has been eaten before.” 8
That night Dudley and Stephens stabbed Parker in the jugular with a penknife. For four days Dudley and Stephens fedoff Parker’s carcass (and drank his blood). Brooks, despite his denunciation of the crime, joined in: indeed, he ate heartily, more than Stephens, who was desperately feeble. The author of a book on the episode, Brian Simpson, writes that “The grim thought must have occurred to Stephens that he, as the weakest, was likely to be next on the menu.” 9
Miraculously, still drifting hundreds of miles from land, they were spotted by a German boat returning from South America to Hamburg. The compassionate captain and his crew watered and fed them, and slowly they regained a little of their strength. When they eventually sailed into the Cornish port of Falmouth, they provided a full written explanation of what had happened—common practice when a ship was lost. Not imagining that any legal process would ensue, Dudley spared few details. The decision to prosecute them was not taken lightly. But the Home Secretary
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