Kabanata Kabanata 3 · Volume 3

olume 3

NARRATIVE OF A. GORDON PYM

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Upon my return to the United States a few months ago, after the

extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and

elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages,

accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in

Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to

the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon

me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several

reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a

nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself;

others not so much so. One consideration which deterred me was

that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time

in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write,

from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have

the _appearance_of that truth it would really possess, barring

only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us

are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence

in exciting the imaginative faculties. Another reason was, that

the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively

marvellous that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be

(except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a

half-breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family,

and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put

faith in my veracity—the probability being that the public at

large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent

and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer

was, nevertheless, one of the principal causes which prevented me

from complying with the suggestions of my advisers.

Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed the greatest

interest in my statement, more particularly in regard to that

portion of it which related to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe,

lately editor of the “Southern Literary Messenger,” a monthly

magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W. White, in the city of

Richmond. He strongly advised me, among others, to prepare at

once a full account of what I had seen and undergone, and trust

to the shrewdness and common-sense of the public—insisting, with

great plausibility, that however roughly, as regards mere

authorship, my book should be got up, its very uncouthness, if

there were any, would give it all the better chance of being

received as truth.

Notwithstanding this representation, I did not make up my mind to

do as he suggested. He afterward proposed (finding that I would

not stir in the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in

his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of my

adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing it in the

“Southern Messenger” _under the garb of fiction. _To this,

perceiving no objection, I consented, stipulating only that my

real name should be retained. Two numbers of the pretended

fiction appeared, consequently, in the “Messenger” for January

and February (1837), and, in order that it might certainly be

regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to the

articles in the table of contents of the magazine.

The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at

length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the

adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of

fable which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of

my statement which appeared in the “Messenger” (without altering

or distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all

disposed to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to

Mr. P.’s address, distinctly expressing a conviction to the

contrary. I thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would

prove of such a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence

of their own authenticity, and that I had consequently little to

fear on the score of popular incredulity.

This _exposé_being made, it will be seen at once how much of what

follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be

understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages

which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not

seen the “Messenger,” it will be unnecessary to point out where

his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of

style will be readily perceived.

A. G. PYM.

CHAPTER 1

My name is Arthur Gordon Pym. My father was a respectable trader

in sea-stores at Nantucket, where I was born. My maternal

grandfather was an attorney in good practice. He was fortunate in

every thing, and had speculated very successfully in stocks of

the Edgarton New Bank, as it was formerly called. By these and

other means he had managed to lay by a tolerable sum of money. He

was more attached to myself, I believe, than to any other person

in the world, and I expected to inherit the most of his property

at his death. He sent me, at six years of age, to the school of

old Mr. Ricketts, a gentleman with only one arm and of eccentric

manners—he is well known to almost every person who has visited

New Bedford. I stayed at his school until I was sixteen, when I

left him for Mr. E. Ronald’s academy on the hill. Here I became

intimate with the son of Mr. Barnard, a sea-captain, who

generally sailed in the employ of Lloyd and Vredenburgh—Mr.

Barnard is also very well known in New Bedford, and has many

relations, I am certain, in Edgarton. His son was named Augustus,

and he was nearly two years older than myself. He had been on a

whaling voyage with his father in the John Donaldson, and was

always talking to me of his adventures in the South Pacific

Ocean. I used frequently to go home with him, and remain all day,

and sometimes all night. We occupied the same bed, and he would

be sure to keep me awake until almost light, telling me stories

of the natives of the Island of Tinian, and other places he had

visited in his travels. At last I could not help being interested

in what he said, and by degrees I felt the greatest desire to go

to sea. I owned a sailboat called the Ariel, and worth about

seventy-five dollars. She had a half-deck or cuddy, and was

rigged sloop-fashion—I forget her tonnage, but she would hold ten

persons without much crowding. In this boat we were in the habit

of going on some of the maddest freaks in the world; and, when I

now think of them, it appears to me a thousand wonders that I am

alive to-day.

I will relate one of these adventures by way of introduction to a

longer and more momentous narrative. One night there was a party

at Mr. Barnard’s, and both Augustus and myself were not a little

intoxicated toward the close of it. As usual, in such cases, I

took part of his bed in preference to going home. He went to

sleep, as I thought, very quietly (it being near one when the

party broke up), and without saying a word on his favorite topic.

It might have been half an hour from the time of our getting in

bed, and I was just about falling into a doze, when he suddenly

started up, and swore with a terrible oath that he would not go

to sleep for any Arthur Pym in Christendom, when there was so

glorious a breeze from the southwest. I never was so astonished

in my life, not knowing what he intended, and thinking that the

wines and liquors he had drunk had set him entirely beside

himself. He proceeded to talk very coolly, however, saying he

knew that I supposed him intoxicated, but that he was never more

sober in his life. He was only tired, he added, of lying in bed

on such a fine night like a dog, and was determined to get up and

dress, and go out on a frolic with the boat. I can hardly tell

what possessed me, but the words were no sooner out of his mouth

than I felt a thrill of the greatest excitement and pleasure, and

thought his mad idea one of the most delightful and most

reasonable things in the world. It was blowing almost a gale, and

the weather was very cold—it being late in October. I sprang out

of bed, nevertheless, in a kind of ecstasy, and told him I was

quite as brave as himself, and quite as tired as he was of lying

in bed like a dog, and quite as ready for any fun or frolic as

any Augustus Barnard in Nantucket.

We lost no time in getting on our clothes and hurrying down to

the boat. She was lying at the old decayed wharf by the

lumber-yard of Pankey & Co., and almost thumping her side out

against the rough logs. Augustus got into her and bailed her, for

she was nearly half full of water. This being done, we hoisted

jib and mainsail, kept full, and started boldly out to sea.

The wind, as I before said, blew freshly from the southwest. The

night was very clear and cold. Augustus had taken the helm, and I

stationed myself by the mast, on the deck of the cuddy. We flew

along at a great rate—neither of us having said a word since

casting loose from the wharf. I now asked my companion what

course he intended to steer, and what time he thought it probable

we should get back. He whistled for a few minutes, and then said

crustily: “_I_ am going to sea—_you_ may go home if you think

proper.” Turning my eyes upon him, I perceived at once that, in

spite of his assumed _nonchalance_, he was greatly agitated. I

could see him distinctly by the light of the moon—his face was

paler than any marble, and his hand shook so excessively that he

could scarcely retain hold of the tiller. I found that something

had gone wrong, and became seriously alarmed. At this period I

knew little about the management of a boat, and was now depending

entirely upon the nautical skill of my friend. The wind, too, had

suddenly increased, as we were fast getting out of the lee of the

land—still I was ashamed to betray any trepidation, and for

almost half an hour maintained a resolute silence. I could stand

it no longer, however, and spoke to Augustus about the propriety

of turning back. As before, it was nearly a minute before he made

answer, or took any notice of my suggestion. “By-and-by,” said he

at length—“time enough—home by-and-by.” I had expected a similar

reply, but there was something in the tone of these words which

filled me with an indescribable feeling of dread. I again looked

at the speaker attentively. His lips were perfectly livid, and

his knees shook so violently together that he seemed scarcely

able to stand. “For God’s sake, Augustus,” I screamed, now

heartily frightened, “what ails you?—what is the matter?—what

_are_ you going to do?” “Matter!” he stammered, in the greatest

apparent surprise, letting go the tiller at the same moment, and

falling forward into the bottom of the boat—“matter—why, nothing

is the—matter—going home—d—d—don’t you see?” The whole truth now

flashed upon me. I flew to him and raised him up. He was

drunk—beastly drunk—he could no longer either stand, speak, or

see. His eyes were perfectly glazed; and as I let him go in the

extremity of my despair, he rolled like a mere log into the

bilge-water, from which I had lifted him. It was evident that,

during the evening, he had drunk far more than I suspected, and

that his conduct in bed had been the result of a

highly-concentrated state of intoxication—a state which, like

madness, frequently enables the victim to imitate the outward

demeanour of one in perfect possession of his senses. The

coolness of the night air, however, had had its usual effect—the

mental energy began to yield before its influence—and the

confused perception which he no doubt then had of his perilous

situation had assisted in hastening the catastrophe. He was now

thoroughly insensible, and there was no probability that he would

be otherwise for many hours.

It is hardly possible to conceive the extremity of my terror. The

fumes of the wine lately taken had evaporated, leaving me doubly

timid and irresolute. I knew that I was altogether incapable of

managing the boat, and that a fierce wind and strong ebb tide

were hurrying us to destruction. A storm was evidently gathering

behind us; we had neither compass nor provisions; and it was

clear that, if we held our present course, we should be out of

sight of land before daybreak. These thoughts, with a crowd of

others equally fearful, flashed through my mind with a

bewildering rapidity, and for some moments paralyzed me beyond

the possibility of making any exertion. The boat was going

through the water at a terrible rate—full before the wind—no reef

in either jib or mainsail—running her bows completely under the

foam. It was a thousand wonders she did not broach to—Augustus

having let go the tiller, as I said before, and I being too much

agitated to think of taking it myself. By good luck, however, she

kept steady, and gradually I recovered some degree of presence of

mind. Still the wind was increasing fearfully, and whenever we

rose from a plunge forward, the sea behind fell combing over our

counter, and deluged us with water. I was so utterly benumbed,

too, in every limb, as to be nearly unconscious of sensation. At

length I summoned up the resolution of despair, and rushing to

the mainsail let it go by the run. As might have been expected,

it flew over the bows, and, getting drenched with water, carried

away the mast short off by the board. This latter accident alone

saved me from instant destruction. Under the jib only, I now

boomed along before the wind, shipping heavy seas occasionally

over the counter, but relieved from the terror of immediate

death. I took the helm, and breathed with greater freedom as I

found that there yet remained to us a chance of ultimate escape.

Augustus still lay senseless in the bottom of the boat; and as

there was imminent danger of his drowning (the water being nearly

a foot deep just where he fell), I contrived to raise him

partially up, and keep him in a sitting position, by passing a

rope round his waist, and lashing it to a ringbolt in the deck of

the cuddy. Having thus arranged every thing as well as I could in

my chilled and agitated condition, I recommended myself to God,

and made up my mind to bear whatever might happen with all the

fortitude in my power.

Hardly had I come to this resolution, when, suddenly, a loud and

long scream or yell, as if from the throats of a thousand demons,

seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere around and above the boat.

Never while I live shall I forget the intense agony of terror I

experienced at that moment. My hair stood erect on my head—I felt

the blood congealing in my veins—my heart ceased utterly to beat,

and without having once raised my eyes to learn the source of my

alarm, I tumbled headlong and insensible upon the body of my

fallen companion.

I found myself, upon reviving, in the cabin of a large

whaling-ship (the Penguin) bound to Nantucket. Several persons

were standing over me, and Augustus, paler than death, was busily

occupied in chafing my hands. Upon seeing me open my eyes, his

exclamations of gratitude and joy excited alternate laughter and

tears from the rough-looking personages who were present. The

mystery of our being in existence was now soon explained. We had

been run down by the whaling-ship, which was close-hauled,

beating up to Nantucket with every sail she could venture to set,

and consequently running almost at right angles to our own

course. Several men were on the look-out forward, but did not

perceive our boat until it was an impossibility to avoid coming

in contact—their shouts of warning upon seeing us were what so

terribly alarmed me. The huge ship, I was told, rode immediately

over us with as much ease as our own little vessel would have

passed over a feather, and without the least perceptible

impediment to her progress. Not a scream arose from the deck of

the victim—there was a slight grating sound to be heard mingling

with the roar of wind and water, as the frail bark which was

swallowed up rubbed for a moment along the keel of her

destroyer—but this was all. Thinking our boat (which it will be

remembered was dismasted) some mere shell cut adrift as useless,

the captain (Captain E. T. V. Block, of New London) was for

proceeding on his course without troubling himself further about

the matter. Luckily, there were two of the look-out who swore

positively to having seen some person at our helm, and

represented the possibility of yet saving him. A discussion

ensued, when Block grew angry, and, after a while, said that “it

was no business of his to be eternally watching for egg-shells;

that the ship should not put about for any such nonsense; and if

there was a man run down, it was nobody’s fault but his own, he

might drown and be dammed” or some language to that effect.

Henderson, the first mate, now took the matter up, being justly

indignant, as well as the whole ship’s crew, at a speech evincing

so base a degree of heartless atrocity. He spoke plainly, seeing

himself upheld by the men, told the captain he considered him a

fit subject for the gallows, and that he would disobey his orders

if he were hanged for it the moment he set his foot on shore. He

strode aft, jostling Block (who turned pale and made no answer)

on one side, and seizing the helm, gave the word, in a firm

voice, Hard-a-lee! The men flew to their posts, and the ship went

cleverly about. All this had occupied nearly five minutes, and it

was supposed to be hardly within the bounds of possibility that

any individual could be saved—allowing any to have been on board

the boat. Yet, as the reader has seen, both Augustus and myself

were rescued; and our deliverance seemed to have been brought

about by two of those almost inconceivable pieces of good fortune

which are attributed by the wise and pious to the special

interference of Providence.

While the ship was yet in stays, the mate lowered the jolly-boat

and jumped into her with the very two men, I believe, who spoke

up as having seen me at the helm. They had just left the lee of

the vessel (the moon still shining brightly) when she made a long

and heavy roll to windward, and Henderson, at the same moment,

starting up in his seat bawled out to his crew to back water. He

would say nothing else—repeating his cry impatiently, back water!

back water! The men put back as speedily as possible, but by this

time the ship had gone round, and gotten fully under headway,

although all hands on board were making great exertions to take

in sail. In despite of the danger of the attempt, the mate clung

to the main-chains as soon as they came within his reach. Another

huge lurch now brought the starboard side of the vessel out of

water nearly as far as her keel, when the cause of his anxiety

was rendered obvious enough. The body of a man was seen to be

affixed in the most singular manner to the smooth and shining

bottom (the Penguin was coppered and copper-fastened), and

beating violently against it with every movement of the hull.

After several ineffectual efforts, made during the lurches of the

ship, and at the imminent risk of swamping the boat I was finally

disengaged from my perilous situation and taken on board—for the

body proved to be my own. It appeared that one of the

timber-bolts having started and broken a passage through the

copper, it had arrested my progress as I passed under the ship,

and fastened me in so extraordinary a manner to her bottom. The

head of the bolt had made its way through the collar of the green

baize jacket I had on, and through the back part of my neck,

forcing itself out between two sinews and just below the right

ear. I was immediately put to bed—although life seemed to be

totally extinct. There was no surgeon on board. The captain,

however, treated me with every attention—to make amends, I

presume, in the eyes of his crew, for his atrocious behaviour in

the previous portion of the adventure.

In the meantime, Henderson had again put off from the ship,

although the wind was now blowing almost a hurricane. He had not

been gone many minutes when he fell in with some fragments of our

boat, and shortly afterward one of the men with him asserted that

he could distinguish a cry for help at intervals amid the roaring

of the tempest. This induced the hardy seamen to persevere in

their search for more than half an hour, although repeated

signals to return were made them by Captain Block, and although

every moment on the water in so frail a boat was fraught to them

with the most imminent and deadly peril. Indeed, it is nearly

impossible to conceive how the small jolly they were in could

have escaped destruction for a single instant. She was built,

however, for the whaling service, and was fitted, as I have since

had reason to believe, with air-boxes, in the manner of some

life-boats used on the coast of Wales.

After searching in vain for about the period of time just

mentioned, it was determined to get back to the ship. They had

scarcely made this resolve when a feeble cry arose from a dark

object that floated rapidly by. They pursued and soon overtook

it. It proved to be the entire deck of the Ariel’s cuddy.

Augustus was struggling near it, apparently in the last agonies.

Upon getting hold of him it was found that he was attached by a

rope to the floating timber. This rope, it will be remembered, I

had myself tied around his waist, and made fast to a ringbolt,

for the purpose of keeping him in an upright position, and my so

doing, it appeared, had been ultimately the means of preserving

his life. The Ariel was slightly put together, and in going down

her frame naturally went to pieces; the deck of the cuddy, as

might have been expected, was lifted, by the force of the water

rushing in, entirely from the main timbers, and floated (with

other fragments, no doubt) to the surface—Augustus was buoyed up

with it, and thus escaped a terrible death.

It was more than an hour after being taken on board the Penguin

before he could give any account of himself, or be made to

comprehend the nature of the accident which had befallen our

boat. At length he became thoroughly aroused, and spoke much of

his sensations while in the water. Upon his first attaining any

degree of consciousness, he found himself beneath the surface,

whirling round and round with inconceivable rapidity, and with a

rope wrapped in three or four folds tightly about his neck. In an

instant afterward he felt himself going rapidly upward, when, his

head striking violently against a hard substance, he again

relapsed into insensibility. Upon once more reviving he was in

fuller possession of his reason—this was still, however, in the

greatest degree clouded and confused. He now knew that some

accident had occurred, and that he was in the water, although his

mouth was above the surface, and he could breathe with some

freedom. Possibly, at this period the deck was drifting rapidly

before the wind, and drawing him after it, as he floated upon his

back. Of course, as long as he could have retained this position,

it would have been nearly impossible that he should be drowned.

Presently a surge threw him directly athwart the deck, and this

post he endeavored to maintain, screaming at intervals for help.

Just before he was discovered by Mr. Henderson, he had been

obliged to relax his hold through exhaustion, and, falling into

the sea, had given himself up for lost. During the whole period

of his struggles he had not the faintest recollection of the

Ariel, nor of the matters in connexion with the source of his

disaster. A vague feeling of terror and despair had taken entire

possession of his faculties. When he was finally picked up, every

power of his mind had failed him; and, as before said, it was

nearly an hour after getting on board the Penguin before he

became fully aware of his condition. In regard to myself—I was

resuscitated from a state bordering very nearly upon death (and

after every other means had been tried in vain for three hours

and a half) by vigorous friction with flannels bathed in hot

oil—a proceeding suggested by Augustus. The wound in my neck,

although of an ugly appearance, proved of little real

consequence, and I soon recovered from its effects.

The Penguin got into port about nine o’clock in the morning,

after encountering one of the severest gales ever experienced off

Nantucket. Both Augustus and myself managed to appear at Mr.

Barnard’s in time for breakfast—which, luckily, was somewhat

late, owing to the party over night. I suppose all at the table

were too much fatigued themselves to notice our jaded

appearance—of course, it would not have borne a very rigid

scrutiny. Schoolboys, however, can accomplish wonders in the way

of deception, and I verily believe not one of our friends in

Nantucket had the slightest suspicion that the terrible story

told by some sailors in town of their having run down a vessel at

sea and drowned some thirty or forty poor devils, had reference

either to the Ariel, my companion, or myself. We two have since

very frequently talked the matter over—but never without a

shudder. In one of our conversations Augustus frankly confessed

to me, that in his whole life he had at no time experienced so

excruciating a sense of dismay, as when on board our little boat

he first discovered the extent of his intoxication, and felt

himself sinking beneath its influence.

CHAPTER 2

In no affairs of mere prejudice, pro or con, do we deduce

inferences with entire certainty, even from the most simple data.

It might be supposed that a catastrophe such as I have just

related would have effectually cooled my incipient passion for

the sea. On the contrary, I never experienced a more ardent

longing for the wild adventures incident to the life of a

navigator than within a week after our miraculous deliverance.

This short period proved amply long enough to erase from my

memory the shadows, and bring out in vivid light all the

pleasurably exciting points of color, all the picturesqueness, of

the late perilous accident. My conversations with Augustus grew

daily more frequent and more intensely full of interest. He had a

manner of relating his stories of the ocean (more than one half

of which I now suspect to have been sheer fabrications) well

adapted to have weight with one of my enthusiastic temperament

and somewhat gloomy although glowing imagination. It is strange,

too, that he most strongly enlisted my feelings in behalf of the

life of a seaman, when he depicted his more terrible moments of

suffering and despair. For the bright side of the painting I had

a limited sympathy. My visions were of shipwreck and famine; of

death or captivity among barbarian hordes; of a lifetime dragged

out in sorrow and tears, upon some gray and desolate rock, in an

ocean unapproachable and unknown. Such visions or desires—for

they amounted to desires—are common, I have since been assured,

to the whole numerous race of the melancholy among men—at the

time of which I speak I regarded them only as prophetic glimpses

of a destiny which I felt myself in a measure bound to fulfil.

Augustus thoroughly entered into my state of mind. It is

probable, indeed, that our intimate communion had resulted in a

partial interchange of character.

About eighteen months after the period of the Ariel’s disaster,

the firm of Lloyd and Vredenburgh (a house connected in some

manner with the Messieurs Enderby, I believe, of Liverpool) were

engaged in repairing and fitting out the brig Grampus for a

whaling voyage. She was an old hulk, and scarcely seaworthy when

all was done to her that could be done. I hardly know why she was

chosen in preference to other good vessels belonging to the same

owners—but so it was. Mr. Barnard was appointed to command her,

and Augustus was going with him. While the brig was getting

ready, he frequently urged upon me the excellency of the

opportunity now offered for indulging my desire of travel. He

found me by no means an unwilling listener—yet the matter could

not be so easily arranged. My father made no direct opposition;

but my mother went into hysterics at the bare mention of the

design; and, more than all, my grandfather, from whom I expected

much, vowed to cut me off with a shilling if I should ever broach

the subject to him again. These difficulties, however, so far

from abating my desire, only added fuel to the flame. I

determined to go at all hazards; and, having made known my

intentions to Augustus, we set about arranging a plan by which it

might be accomplished. In the meantime I forbore speaking to any

of my relations in regard to the voyage, and, as I busied myself

ostensibly with my usual studies, it was supposed that I had

abandoned the design. I have since frequently examined my conduct

on this occasion with sentiments of displeasure as well as of

surprise. The intense hypocrisy I made use of for the furtherance

of my project—an hypocrisy pervading every word and action of my

life for so long a period of time—could only have been rendered

tolerable to myself by the wild and burning expectation with

which I looked forward to the fulfilment of my long-cherished

visions of travel.

In pursuance of my scheme of deception, I was necessarily obliged

to leave much to the management of Augustus, who was employed for

the greater part of every day on board the Grampus, attending to

some arrangements for his father in the cabin and cabin hold. At

night, however, we were sure to have a conference and talk over

our hopes. After nearly a month passed in this manner, without

our hitting upon any plan we thought likely to succeed, he told

me at last that he had determined upon everything necessary. I

had a relation living in New Bedford, a Mr. Ross, at whose house

I was in the habit of spending occasionally two or three weeks at

a time. The brig was to sail about the middle of June (June,

1827), and it was agreed that, a day or two before her putting to

sea, my father was to receive a note, as usual, from Mr. Ross,

asking me to come over and spend a fortnight with Robert and

Emmet (his sons). Augustus charged himself with the inditing of

this note and getting it delivered. Having set out as supposed,

for New Bedford, I was then to report myself to my companion, who

would contrive a hiding-place for me in the Grampus. This

hiding-place, he assured me, would be rendered sufficiently

comfortable for a residence of many days, during which I was not

to make my appearance. When the brig had proceeded so far on her

course as to make any turning back a matter out of question, I

should then, he said, be formally installed in all the comforts

of the cabin; and as to his father, he would only laugh heartily

at the joke. Vessels enough would be met with by which a letter

might be sent home explaining the adventure to my parents.

The middle of June at length arrived, and every thing had been

matured. The note was written and delivered, and on a Monday

morning I left the house for the New Bedford packet, as supposed.

I went, however, straight to Augustus, who was waiting for me at

the corner of a street. It had been our original plan that I

should keep out of the way until dark, and then slip on board the

brig; but, as there was now a thick fog in our favor, it was

agreed to lose no time in secreting me. Augustus led the way to

the wharf, and I followed at a little distance, enveloped in a

thick seaman’s cloak, which he had brought with him, so that my

person might not be easily recognized. Just as we turned the

second corner, after passing Mr. Edmund’s well, who should

appear, standing right in front of me, and looking me full in the

face, but old Mr. Peterson, my grandfather. “Why, bless my soul,

Gordon,” said he, after a long pause, “why, why,—whose dirty

cloak is that you have on?” “Sir!” I replied, assuming, as well

as I could, in the exigency of the moment, an air of offended

surprise, and talking in the gruffest of all imaginable

tones—“sir! you are a sum’mat mistaken—my name, in the first

place, bee’nt nothing at all like Goddin, and I’d want you for to

know better, you blackguard, than to call my new obercoat a darty

one.” For my life I could hardly refrain from screaming with

laughter at the odd manner in which the old gentleman received

this handsome rebuke. He started back two or three steps, turned

first pale and then excessively red, threw up his spectacles,

then, putting them down, ran full tilt at me, with his umbrella

uplifted. He stopped short, however, in his career, as if struck

with a sudden recollection; and presently, turning round, hobbled

off down the street, shaking all the while with rage, and

muttering between his teeth: “Won’t do—new glasses—thought it was

Gordon—d—d good-for-nothing salt water Long Tom.”

After this narrow escape we proceeded with greater caution, and

arrived at our point of destination in safety. There were only

one or two of the hands on board, and these were busy forward,

doing something to the forecastle combings. Captain Barnard, we

knew very well, was engaged at Lloyd and Vredenburgh’s, and would

remain there until late in the evening, so we had little to

apprehend on his account. Augustus went first up the vessel’s

side, and in a short while I followed him, without being noticed

by the men at work. We proceeded at once into the cabin, and

found no person there. It was fitted up in the most comfortable

style—a thing somewhat unusual in a whaling-vessel. There were

four very excellent staterooms, with wide and convenient berths.

There was also a large stove, I took notice, and a remarkably

thick and valuable carpet covering the floor of both the cabin

and staterooms. The ceiling was full seven feet high, and, in

short, every thing appeared of a more roomy and agreeable nature

than I had anticipated. Augustus, however, would allow me but

little time for observation, insisting upon the necessity of my

concealing myself as soon as possible. He led the way into his

own stateroom, which was on the starboard side of the brig, and

next to the bulkheads. Upon entering, he closed the door and

bolted it. I thought I had never seen a nicer little room than

the one in which I now found myself. It was about ten feet long,

and had only one berth, which, as I said before, was wide and

convenient. In that portion of the closet nearest the bulkheads

there was a space of four feet square, containing a table, a

chair, and a set of hanging shelves full of books, chiefly books

of voyages and travels. There were many other little comforts in

the room, among which I ought not to forget a kind of safe or

refrigerator, in which Augustus pointed out to me a host of

delicacies, both in the eating and drinking department.

He now pressed with his knuckles upon a certain spot of the

carpet in one corner of the space just mentioned, letting me know

that a portion of the flooring, about sixteen inches square, had

been neatly cut out and again adjusted. As he pressed, this

portion rose up at one end sufficiently to allow the passage of

his finger beneath. In this manner he raised the mouth of the

trap (to which the carpet was still fastened by tacks), and I

found that it led into the after hold. He next lit a small taper

by means of a phosphorous match, and, placing the light in a dark

lantern, descended with it through the opening, bidding me

follow. I did so, and he then pulled the cover upon the hole, by

means of a nail driven into the under side—the carpet, of course,

resuming its original position on the floor of the stateroom, and

all traces of the aperture being concealed.

The taper gave out so feeble a ray that it was with the greatest

difficulty I could grope my way through the confused mass of

lumber among which I now found myself. By degrees, however, my

eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and I proceeded with less

trouble, holding on to the skirts of my friend’s coat. He brought

me, at length, after creeping and winding through innumerable

narrow passages, to an iron-bound box, such as is used sometimes

for packing fine earthenware. It was nearly four feet high, and

full six long, but very narrow. Two large empty oil-casks lay on

the top of it, and above these, again, a vast quantity of straw

matting, piled up as high as the floor of the cabin. In every

other direction around was wedged as closely as possible, even up

to the ceiling, a complete chaos of almost every species of

ship-furniture, together with a heterogeneous medley of crates,

hampers, barrels, and bales, so that it seemed a matter no less

than miraculous that we had discovered any passage at all to the

box. I afterward found that Augustus had purposely arranged the

stowage in this hold with a view to affording me a thorough

concealment, having had only one assistant in the labour, a man

not going out in the brig.

My companion now showed me that one of the ends of the box could

be removed at pleasure. He slipped it aside and displayed the

interior, at which I was excessively amused. A mattress from one

of the cabin berths covered the whole of its bottom, and it

contained almost every article of mere comfort which could be

crowded into so small a space, allowing me, at the same time,

sufficient room for my accommodation, either in a sitting

position or lying at full length. Among other things, there were

some books, pen, ink, and paper, three blankets, a large jug full

of water, a keg of sea-biscuit, three or four immense Bologna

sausages, an enormous ham, a cold leg of roast mutton, and half a

dozen bottles of cordials and liqueurs. I proceeded immediately

to take possession of my little apartment, and this with feelings

of higher satisfaction, I am sure, than any monarch ever

experienced upon entering a new palace. Augustus now pointed out

to me the method of fastening the open end of the box, and then,

holding the taper close to the deck, showed me a piece of dark

whipcord lying along it. This, he said, extended from my

hiding-place throughout all the necessary windings among the

lumber, to a nail which was driven into the deck of the hold,

immediately beneath the trap-door leading into his stateroom. By

means of this cord I should be enabled readily to trace my way

out without his guidance, provided any unlooked-for accident

should render such a step necessary. He now took his departure,

leaving with me the lantern, together with a copious supply of

tapers and phosphorous, and promising to pay me a visit as often

as he could contrive to do so without observation. This was on

the seventeenth of June.

I remained three days and nights (as nearly as I could guess) in

my hiding-place without getting out of it at all, except twice

for the purpose of stretching my limbs by standing erect between

two crates just opposite the opening. During the whole period I

saw nothing of Augustus; but this occasioned me little

uneasiness, as I knew the brig was expected to put to sea every

hour, and in the bustle he would not easily find opportunities of

coming down to me. At length I heard the trap open and shut, and

presently he called in a low voice, asking if all was well, and

if there was any thing I wanted. “Nothing,” I replied; “I am as

comfortable as can be; when will the brig sail?” “She will be

under weigh in less than half an hour,” he answered. “I came to

let you know, and for fear you should be uneasy at my absence. I

shall not have a chance of coming down again for some

time—perhaps for three or four days more. All is going on right

aboveboard. After I go up and close the trap, do you creep along

by the whipcord to where the nail is driven in. You will find my

watch there—it may be useful to you, as you have no daylight to

keep time by. I suppose you can’t tell how long you have been

buried—only three days—this is the twentieth. I would bring the

watch to your box, but am afraid of being missed.” With this he

went up.

In about an hour after he had gone I distinctly felt the brig in

motion, and congratulated myself upon having at length fairly

commenced a voyage. Satisfied with this idea, I determined to

make my mind as easy as possible, and await the course of events

until I should be permitted to exchange the box for the more

roomy, although hardly more comfortable, accommodations of the

cabin. My first care was to get the watch. Leaving the taper

burning, I groped along in the dark, following the cord through

windings innumerable, in some of which I discovered that, after

toiling a long distance, I was brought back within a foot or two

of a former position. At length I reached the nail, and securing

the object of my journey, returned with it in safety. I now

looked over the books which had been so thoughtfully provided,

and selected the expedition of Lewis and Clarke to the mouth of

the Columbia. With this I amused myself for some time, when,

growing sleepy, I extinguished the light with great care, and

soon fell into a sound slumber.

Upon awakening I felt strangely confused in mind, and some time

elapsed before I could bring to recollection all the various

circumstances of my situation. By degrees, however, I remembered

all. Striking a light, I looked at the watch; but it was run

down, and there were, consequently, no means of determining how

long I slept. My limbs were greatly cramped, and I was forced to

relieve them by standing between the crates. Presently feeling an

almost ravenous appetite, I bethought myself of the cold mutton,

some of which I had eaten just before going to sleep, and found

excellent. What was my astonishment in discovering it to be in a

state of absolute putrefaction! This circumstance occasioned me

great disquietude; for, connecting it with the disorder of mind I

experienced upon awakening, I began to suppose that I must have

slept for an inordinately long period of time. The close

atmosphere of the hold might have had something to do with this,

and might, in the end, be productive of the most serious results.

My head ached excessively; I fancied that I drew every breath

with difficulty; and, in short, I was oppressed with a multitude

of gloomy feelings. Still I could not venture to make any

disturbance by opening the trap or otherwise, and, having wound

up the watch, contented myself as well as possible.

Throughout the whole of the next tedious twenty-four hours no

person came to my relief, and I could not help accusing Augustus

of the grossest inattention. What alarmed me chiefly was, that

the water in my jug was reduced to about half a pint, and I was

suffering much from thirst, having eaten freely of the Bologna

sausages after the loss of my mutton. I became very uneasy, and

could no longer take any interest in my books. I was overpowered,

too, with a desire to sleep, yet trembled at the thought of

indulging it, lest there might exist some pernicious influence,

like that of burning charcoal, in the confined air of the hold.

In the meantime the roll of the brig told me that we were far in

the main ocean, and a dull humming sound, which reached my ears

as if from an immense distance, convinced me no ordinary gale was

blowing. I could not imagine a reason for the absence of

Augustus. We were surely far enough advanced on our voyage to

allow of my going up. Some accident might have happened to

him—but I could think of none which would account for his

suffering me to remain so long a prisoner, except, indeed, his

having suddenly died or fallen overboard, and upon this idea I

could not dwell with any degree of patience. It was possible that

we had been baffled by head winds, and were still in the near

vicinity of Nantucket. This notion, however, I was forced to

abandon; for such being the case, the brig must have frequently

gone about; and I was entirely satisfied, from her continual

inclination to the larboard, that she had been sailing all along

with a steady breeze on her starboard quarter. Besides, granting

that we were still in the neighborhood of the island, why should

not Augustus have visited me and informed me of the circumstance?

Pondering in this manner upon the difficulties of my solitary and

cheerless condition, I resolved to wait yet another twenty-four

hours, when, if no relief were obtained, I would make my way to

the trap, and endeavour either to hold a parley with my friend,

or get at least a little fresh air through the opening, and a

further supply of water from the stateroom. While occupied with

this thought, however, I fell in spite of every exertion to the

contrary, into a state of profound sleep, or rather stupor. My

dreams were of the most terrific description. Every species of

calamity and horror befell me. Among other miseries I was

smothered to death between huge pillows, by demons of the most

ghastly and ferocious aspect. Immense serpents held me in their

embrace, and looked earnestly in my face with their fearfully

shining eyes. Then deserts, limitless, and of the most forlorn

and awe-inspiring character, spread themselves out before me.

Immensely tall trunks of trees, gray and leafless, rose up in

endless succession as far as the eye could reach. Their roots

were concealed in wide-spreading morasses, whose dreary water lay

intensely black, still, and altogether terrible, beneath. And the

strange trees seemed endowed with a human vitality, and waving to

and fro their skeleton arms, were crying to the silent waters for

mercy, in the shrill and piercing accents of the most acute agony

and despair. The scene changed; and I stood, naked and alone,

amidst the burning sand-plains of Sahara. At my feet lay crouched

a fierce lion of the tropics. Suddenly his wild eyes opened and

fell upon me. With a conclusive bound he sprang to his feet, and

laid bare his horrible teeth. In another instant there burst from

his red throat a roar like the thunder of the firmament, and I

fell impetuously to the earth. Stifling in a paroxysm of terror,

I at last found myself partially awake. My dream, then, was not

all a dream. Now, at least, I was in possession of my senses. The

paws of some huge and real monster were pressing heavily upon my

bosom—his hot breath was in my ear—and his white and ghastly

fangs were gleaming upon me through the gloom.

Had a thousand lives hung upon the movement of a limb or the

utterance of a syllable, I could have neither stirred nor spoken.

The beast, whatever it was, retained his position without

attempting any immediate violence, while I lay in an utterly

helpless, and, I fancied, a dying condition beneath him. I felt

that my powers of body and mind were fast leaving me—in a word,

that I was perishing, and perishing of sheer fright. My brain

swam—I grew deadly sick—my vision failed—even the glaring

eyeballs above me grew dim. Making a last strong effort, I at

length breathed a faint ejaculation to God, and resigned myself

to die. The sound of my voice seemed to arouse all the latent

fury of the animal. He precipitated himself at full length upon

my body; but what was my astonishment, when, with a long and low

whine, he commenced licking my face and hands with the greatest

eagerness, and with the most extravagant demonstration of

affection and joy! I was bewildered, utterly lost in

amazement—but I could not forget the peculiar whine of my

Newfoundland dog Tiger, and the odd manner of his caresses I well

knew. It was he. I experienced a sudden rush of blood to my

temples—a giddy and overpowering sense of deliverance and

reanimation. I rose hurriedly from the mattress upon which I had

been lying, and, throwing myself upon the neck of my faithful

follower and friend, relieved the long oppression of my bosom in

a flood of the most passionate tears.

As upon a former occasion my conceptions were in a state of the

greatest indistinctness and confusion after leaving the mattress.

For a long time I found it nearly impossible to connect any

ideas; but, by very slow degrees, my thinking faculties returned,

and I again called to memory the several incidents of my

condition. For the presence of Tiger I tried in vain to account;

and after busying myself with a thousand different conjectures

respecting him, was forced to content myself with rejoicing that

he was with me to share my dreary solitude, and render me comfort

by his caresses. Most people love their dogs—but for Tiger I had

an affection far more ardent than common; and never, certainly,

did any creature more truly deserve it. For seven years he had

been my inseparable companion, and in a multitude of instances

had given evidence of all the noble qualities for which we value

the animal. I had rescued him, when a puppy, from the clutches of

a malignant little villain in Nantucket who was leading him, with

a rope around his neck, to the water; and the grown dog repaid

the obligation, about three years afterward, by saving me from

the bludgeon of a street robber.

Getting now hold of the watch, I found, upon applying it to my

ear, that it had again run down; but at this I was not at all

surprised, being convinced, from the peculiar state of my

feelings, that I had slept, as before, for a very long period of

time, how long, it was of course impossible to say. I was burning

up with fever, and my thirst was almost intolerable. I felt about

the box for my little remaining supply of water, for I had no

light, the taper having burnt to the socket of the lantern, and

the phosphorus-box not coming readily to hand. Upon finding the

jug, however, I discovered it to be empty—Tiger, no doubt, having

been tempted to drink it, as well as to devour the remnant of

mutton, the bone of which lay, well picked, by the opening of the

box. The spoiled meat I could well spare, but my heart sank as I

thought of the water. I was feeble in the extreme—so much so that

I shook all over, as with an ague, at the slightest movement or

exertion. To add to my troubles, the brig was pitching and

rolling with great violence, and the oil-casks which lay upon my

box were in momentary danger of falling down, so as to block up

the only way of ingress or egress. I felt, also, terrible

sufferings from sea-sickness. These considerations determined me

to make my way, at all hazards, to the trap, and obtain immediate

relief, before I should be incapacitated from doing so

altogether. Having come to this resolve, I again felt about for

the phosphorus-box and tapers. The former I found after some

little trouble; but, not discovering the tapers as soon as I had

expected (for I remembered very nearly the spot in which I had

placed them), I gave up the search for the present, and bidding

Tiger lie quiet, began at once my journey toward the trap.

In this attempt my great feebleness became more than ever

apparent. It was with the utmost difficulty I could crawl along

at all, and very frequently my limbs sank suddenly from beneath

me; when, falling prostrate on my face, I would remain for some

minutes in a state bordering on insensibility. Still I struggled

forward by slow degrees, dreading every moment that I should

swoon amid the narrow and intricate windings of the lumber, in

which event I had nothing but death to expect as the result. At

length, upon making a push forward with all the energy I could

command, I struck my forehead violently against the sharp corner

of an iron-bound crate. The accident only stunned me for a few

moments; but I found, to my inexpressible grief, that the quick

and violent roll of the vessel had thrown the crate entirely

across my path, so as effectually to block up the passage. With

my utmost exertions I could not move it a single inch from its

position, it being closely wedged in among the surrounding boxes

and ship-furniture. It became necessary, therefore, enfeebled as

I was, either to leave the guidance of the whipcord and seek out

a new passage, or to climb over the obstacle, and resume the path

on the other side. The former alternative presented too many

difficulties and dangers to be thought of without a shudder. In

my present weak state of both mind and body, I should infallibly

lose my way if I attempted it, and perish miserably amid the

dismal and disgusting labyrinths of the hold. I proceeded,

therefore, without hesitation, to summon up all my remaining

strength and fortitude, and endeavour, as I best might, to

clamber over the crate.

Upon standing erect, with this end in view, I found the

undertaking even a more serious task than my fears had led me to

imagine. On each side of the narrow passage arose a complete wall

of various heavy lumber, which the least blunder on my part might

be the means of bringing down upon my head; or, if this accident

did not occur, the path might be effectually blocked up against

my return by the descending mass, as it was in front by the

obstacle there. The crate itself was a long and unwieldy box,

upon which no foothold could be obtained. In vain I attempted, by

every means in my power, to reach the top, with the hope of being

thus enabled to draw myself up. Had I succeeded in reaching it,

it is certain that my strength would have proved utterly

inadequate to the task of getting over, and it was better in

every respect that I failed. At length, in a desperate effort to

force the crate from its ground, I felt a strong vibration in the

side next me. I thrust my hand eagerly to the edge of the planks,

and found that a very large one was loose. With my pocket-knife,

which, luckily, I had with me, I succeeded, after great labour,

in prying it entirely off; and getting it through the aperture,

discovered, to my exceeding joy, that there were no boards on the

opposite side—in other words, that the top was wanting, it being

the bottom through which I had forced my way. I now met with no

important difficulty in proceeding along the line until I finally

reached the nail. With a beating heart I stood erect, and with a

gentle touch pressed against the cover of the trap. It did not

rise as soon as I had expected, and I pressed it with somewhat

more determination, still dreading lest some other person than

Augustus might be in his state-room. The door, however, to my

astonishment, remained steady, and I became somewhat uneasy, for

I knew that it had formerly required but little or no effort to

remove it. I pushed it strongly—it was nevertheless firm: with

all my strength—it still did not give way: with rage, with fury,

with despair—it set at defiance my utmost efforts; and it was

evident, from the unyielding nature of the resistance, that the

hole had either been discovered and effectually nailed up, or

that some immense weight had been placed upon it, which it was

useless to think of removing.

My sensations were those of extreme horror and dismay. In vain I

attempted to reason on the probable cause of my being thus

entombed. I could summon up no connected chain of reflection,

and, sinking on the floor, gave way, unresistingly, to the most

gloomy imaginings, in which the dreadful deaths of thirst,

famine, suffocation, and premature interment crowded upon me as

the prominent disasters to be encountered. At length there

returned to me some portion of presence of mind. I arose, and

felt with my fingers for the seams or cracks of the aperture.

Having found them, I examined them closely to ascertain if they

emitted any light from the state-room; but none was visible. I

then forced the blade of my pen-knife through them, until I met

with some hard obstacle. Scraping against it, I discovered it to

be a solid mass of iron, which, from its peculiar wavy feel as I

passed the blade along it, I concluded to be a chain-cable. The

only course now left me was to retrace my way to the box, and

there either yield to my sad fate, or try so to tranquilize my

mind as to admit of my arranging some plan of escape. I

immediately set about the attempt, and succeeded, after

innumerable difficulties, in getting back. As I sank, utterly

exhausted, upon the mattress, Tiger threw himself at full length

by my side, and seemed as if desirous, by his caresses, of

consoling me in my troubles, and urging me to bear them with

fortitude.

The singularity of his behavior at length forcibly arrested my

attention. After licking my face and hands for some minutes, he

would suddenly cease doing so, and utter a low whine. Upon

reaching out my hand toward him, I then invariably found him

lying on his back, with his paws uplifted. This conduct, so

frequently repeated, appeared strange, and I could in no manner

account for it. As the dog seemed distressed, I concluded that he

had received some injury; and, taking his paws in my hands, I

examined them one by one, but found no sign of any hurt. I then

supposed him hungry, and gave him a large piece of ham, which he

devoured with avidity—afterward, however, resuming his

extraordinary manoeuvres. I now imagined that he was suffering,

like myself, the torments of thirst, and was about adopting this

conclusion as the true one, when the idea occurred to me that I

had as yet only examined his paws, and that there might possibly

be a wound upon some portion of his body or head. The latter I

felt carefully over, but found nothing. On passing my hand,

however, along his back, I perceived a slight erection of the

hair extending completely across it. Probing this with my finger,

I discovered a string, and tracing it up, found that it encircled

the whole body. Upon a closer scrutiny, I came across a small

slip of what had the feeling of letter paper, through which the

string had been fastened in such a manner as to bring it

immediately beneath the left shoulder of the animal.

CHAPTER 3

The thought instantly occurred to me that the paper was a note

from Augustus, and that some unaccountable accident having

happened to prevent his relieving me from my dungeon, he had

devised this method of acquainting me with the true state of

affairs. Trembling with eagerness, I now commenced another search

for my phosphorus matches and tapers. I had a confused

recollection of having put them carefully away just before

falling asleep; and, indeed, previously to my last journey to the

trap, I had been able to remember the exact spot where I had

deposited them. But now I endeavored in vain to call it to mind,

and busied myself for a full hour in a fruitless and vexatious

search for the missing articles; never, surely, was there a more

tantalizing state of anxiety and suspense. At length, while

groping about, with my head close to the ballast, near the

opening of the box, and outside of it, I perceived a faint

glimmering of light in the direction of the steerage. Greatly

surprised, I endeavored to make my way toward it, as it appeared

to be but a few feet from my position. Scarcely had I moved with

this intention, when I lost sight of the glimmer entirely, and,

before I could bring it into view again, was obliged to feel

along by the box until I had exactly resumed my original

situation. Now, moving my head with caution to and fro, I found

that, by proceeding slowly, with great care, in an opposite

direction to that in which I had at first started, I was enabled

to draw near the light, still keeping it in view. Presently I

came directly upon it (having squeezed my way through innumerable

narrow windings), and found that it proceeded from some fragments

of my matches lying in an empty barrel turned upon its side. I

was wondering how they came in such a place, when my hand fell

upon two or three pieces of taper wax, which had been evidently

mumbled by the dog. I concluded at once that he had devoured the

whole of my supply of candles, and I felt hopeless of being ever

able to read the note of Augustus. The small remnants of the wax

were so mashed up among other rubbish in the barrel, that I

despaired of deriving any service from them, and left them as

they were. The phosphorus, of which there was only a speck or

two, I gathered up as well as I could, and returned with it,

after much difficulty, to my box, where Tiger had all the while

remained.

What to do next I could not tell. The hold was so intensely dark

that I could not see my hand, however close I would hold it to my

face. The white slip of paper could barely be discerned, and not

even that when I looked at it directly; by turning the exterior

portions of the retina toward it—that is to say, by surveying it

slightly askance, I found that it became in some measure

perceptible. Thus the gloom of my prison may be imagined, and the

note of my friend, if indeed it were a note from him, seemed only

likely to throw me into further trouble, by disquieting to no

purpose my already enfeebled and agitated mind. In vain I

revolved in my brain a multitude of absurd expedients for

procuring light—such expedients precisely as a man in the

perturbed sleep occasioned by opium would be apt to fall upon for

a similar purpose—each and all of which appear by turns to the

dreamer the most reasonable and the most preposterous of

conceptions, just as the reasoning or imaginative faculties

flicker, alternately, one above the other. At last an idea

occurred to me which seemed rational, and which gave me cause to

wonder, very justly, that I had not entertained it before. I

placed the slip of paper on the back of a book, and, collecting

the fragments of the phosphorus matches which I had brought from

the barrel, laid them together upon the paper. I then, with the

palm of my hand, rubbed the whole over quickly, yet steadily. A

clear light diffused itself immediately throughout the whole

surface; and had there been any writing upon it, I should not

have experienced the least difficulty, I am sure, in reading it.

Not a syllable was there, however—nothing but a dreary and

unsatisfactory blank; the illumination died away in a few

seconds, and my heart died away within me as it went.

I have before stated more than once that my intellect, for some

period prior to this, had been in a condition nearly bordering on

idiocy. There were, to be sure, momentary intervals of perfect

sanity, and, now and then, even of energy; but these were few. It

must be remembered that I had been, for many days certainly,

inhaling the almost pestilential atmosphere of a close hold in a

whaling vessel, and for a long portion of that time but scantily

supplied with water. For the last fourteen or fifteen hours I had

none—nor had I slept during that time. Salt provisions of the

most exciting kind had been my chief, and, indeed, since the loss

of the mutton, my only supply of food, with the exception of the

sea-biscuit; and these latter were utterly useless to me, as they

were too dry and hard to be swallowed in the swollen and parched

condition of my throat. I was now in a high state of fever, and

in every respect exceedingly ill. This will account for the fact

that many miserable hours of despondency elapsed after my last

adventure with the phosphorus, before the thought suggested

itself that I had examined only one side of the paper. I shall

not attempt to describe my feelings of rage (for I believe I was

more angry than any thing else) when the egregious oversight I

had committed flashed suddenly upon my perception. The blunder

itself would have been unimportant, had not my own folly and

impetuosity rendered it otherwise—in my disappointment at not

finding some words upon the slip, I had childishly torn it in

pieces and thrown it away, it was impossible to say where.

From the worst part of this dilemma I was relieved by the

sagacity of Tiger. Having got, after a long search, a small piece

of the note, I put it to the dog’s nose, and endeavored to make

him understand that he must bring me the rest of it. To my

astonishment, (for I had taught him none of the usual tricks for

which his breed are famous,) he seemed to enter at once into my

meaning, and, rummaging about for a few moments, soon found

another considerable portion. Bringing me this, he paused awhile,

and, rubbing his nose against my hand, appeared to be waiting for

my approval of what he had done. I patted him on the head, when

he immediately made off again. It was now some minutes before he

came back—but when he did come, he brought with him a large slip,

which proved to be all the paper missing—it having been torn, it

seems, only into three pieces. Luckily, I had no trouble in

finding what few fragments of the phosphorus were left—being

guided by the indistinct glow one or two of the particles still

emitted. My difficulties had taught me the necessity of caution,

and I now took time to reflect upon what I was about to do. It

was very probable, I considered, that some words were written

upon that side of the paper which had not been examined—but which

side was that? Fitting the pieces together gave me no clew in

this respect, although it assured me that the words (if there

were any) would be found all on one side, and connected in a

proper manner, as written. There was the greater necessity of

ascertaining the point in question beyond a doubt, as the

phosphorus remaining would be altogether insufficient for a third

attempt, should I fail in the one I was now about to make. I

placed the paper on a book as before, and sat for some minutes

thoughtfully revolving the matter over in my mind. At last I

thought it barely possible that the written side might have some

unevenness on its surface, which a delicate sense of feeling

might enable me to detect. I determined to make the experiment

and passed my finger very carefully over the side which first

presented itself. Nothing, however, was perceptible, and I turned

the paper, adjusting it on the book. I now again carried my

forefinger cautiously along, when I was aware of an exceedingly

slight, but still discernable glow, which followed as it

proceeded. This, I knew, must arise from some very minute

remaining particles of the phosphorus with which I had covered

the paper in my previous attempt. The other, or under side, then,

was that on which lay the writing, if writing there should

finally prove to be. Again I turned the note, and went to work as

I had previously done. Having rubbed in the phosphorus, a

brilliancy ensued as before—but this time several lines of MS. in

a large hand, and apparently in red ink, became distinctly

visible. The glimmer, although sufficiently bright, was but

momentary. Still, had I not been too greatly excited, there would

have been ample time enough for me to peruse the whole three

sentences before me—for I saw there were three. In my anxiety,

however, to read all at once, I succeeded only in reading the

seven concluding words, which thus appeared—“blood—your life

depends upon lying close.”

Had I been able to ascertain the entire contents of the note—the

full meaning of the admonition which my friend had thus attempted

to convey, that admonition, even although it should have revealed

a story of disaster the most unspeakable, could not, I am firmly

convinced, have imbued my mind with one tithe of the harrowing

and yet indefinable horror with which I was inspired by the

fragmentary warning thus received. And “blood,” too, that word of

all words—so rife at all times with mystery, and suffering, and

terror—how trebly full of import did it now appear—how chilly and

heavily (disjointed, as it thus was, from any foregoing words to

qualify or render it distinct) did its vague syllables fall, amid

the deep gloom of my prison, into the innermost recesses of my

soul!

Augustus had, undoubtedly, good reasons for wishing me to remain

concealed, and I formed a thousand surmises as to what they could

be—but I could think of nothing affording a satisfactory solution

of the mystery. Just after returning from my last journey to the

trap, and before my attention had been otherwise directed by the

singular conduct of Tiger, I had come to the resolution of making

myself heard at all events by those on board, or, if I could not

succeed in this directly, of trying to cut my way through the

orlop deck. The half certainty which I felt of being able to

accomplish one of these two purposes in the last emergency, had

given me courage (which I should not otherwise have had) to

endure the evils of my situation. The few words I had been able

to read, however, had cut me off from these final resources, and

I now, for the first time, felt all the misery of my fate. In a

paroxysm of despair I threw myself again upon the mattress,

where, for about the period of a day and night, I lay in a kind

of stupor, relieved only by momentary intervals of reason and

recollection.

At length I once more arose, and busied myself in reflection upon

the horrors which encompassed me. For another twenty-four hours

it was barely possible that I might exist without water—for a

longer time I could not do so. During the first portion of my

imprisonment I had made free use of the cordials with which

Augustus had supplied me, but they only served to excite fever,

without in the least degree assuaging thirst. I had now only

about a gill left, and this was of a species of strong peach

liqueur at which my stomach revolted. The sausages were entirely

consumed; of the ham nothing remained but a small piece of the

skin; and all the biscuit, except a few fragments of one, had

been eaten by Tiger. To add to my troubles, I found that my

headache was increasing momentarily, and with it the species of

delirium which had distressed me more or less since my first

falling asleep. For some hours past it had been with the greatest

difficulty I could breathe at all, and now each attempt at so

doing was attended with the most depressing spasmodic action of

the chest. But there was still another and very different source

of disquietude, and one, indeed, whose harassing terrors had been

the chief means of arousing me to exertion from my stupor on the

mattress. It arose from the demeanor of the dog.

I first observed an alteration in his conduct while rubbing in

the phosphorus on the paper in my last attempt. As I rubbed, he

ran his nose against my hand with a slight snarl; but I was too

greatly excited at the time to pay much attention to the

circumstance. Soon afterward, it will be remembered, I threw

myself on the mattress, and fell into a species of lethargy.

Presently I became aware of a singular hissing sound close at my

ears, and discovered it to proceed from Tiger, who was panting

and wheezing in a state of the greatest apparent excitement, his

eyeballs flashing fiercely through the gloom. I spoke to him,

when he replied with a low growl, and then remained quiet.

Presently I relapsed into my stupor, from which I was again

awakened in a similar manner. This was repeated three or four

times, until finally his behaviour inspired me with so great a

degree of fear, that I became fully aroused. He was now lying

close by the door of the box, snarling fearfully, although in a

kind of undertone, and grinding his teeth as if strongly

convulsed. I had no doubt whatever that the want of water or the

confined atmosphere of the hold had driven him mad, and I was at

a loss what course to pursue. I could not endure the thought of

killing him, yet it seemed absolutely necessary for my own

safety. I could distinctly perceive his eyes fastened upon me

with an expression of the most deadly animosity, and I expected

every instant that he would attack me. At last I could endure my

terrible situation no longer, and determined to make my way from

the box at all hazards, and dispatch him, if his opposition

should render it necessary for me to do so. To get out, I had to

pass directly over his body, and he already seemed to anticipate

my design—missing himself upon his fore-legs (as I perceived by

the altered position of his eyes), and displayed the whole of his

white fangs, which were easily discernible. I took the remains of

the ham-skin, and the bottle containing the liqueur, and secured

them about my person, together with a large carving-knife which

Augustus had left me—then, folding my cloak around me as closely

as possible, I made a movement toward the mouth of the box. No

sooner did I do this, than the dog sprang with a loud growl

toward my throat. The whole weight of his body struck me on the

right shoulder, and I fell violently to the left, while the

enraged animal passed entirely over me. I had fallen upon my

knees, with my head buried among the blankets, and these

protected me from a second furious assault, during which I felt

the sharp teeth pressing vigorously upon the woollen which

enveloped my neck—yet, luckily, without being able to penetrate

all the folds. I was now beneath the dog, and a few moments would

place me completely in his power. Despair gave me strength, and I

rose boldly up, shaking him from me by main force, and dragging

with me the blankets from the mattress. These I now threw over

him, and before he could extricate himself, I had got through the

door and closed it effectually against his pursuit. In this

struggle, however, I had been forced to drop the morsel of

ham-skin, and I now found my whole stock of provisions reduced to

a single gill of liqueur. As this reflection crossed my mind, I

felt myself actuated by one of those fits of perverseness which

might be supposed to influence a spoiled child in similar

circumstances, and, raising the bottle to my lips, I drained it

to the last drop, and dashed it furiously upon the floor.

Scarcely had the echo of the crash died away, when I heard my

name pronounced in an eager but subdued voice, issuing from the

direction of the steerage. So unexpected was anything of the

kind, and so intense was the emotion excited within me by the

sound, that I endeavoured in vain to reply. My powers of speech

totally failed, and in an agony of terror lest my friend should

conclude me dead, and return without attempting to reach me, I

stood up between the crates near the door of the box, trembling

convulsively, and gasping and struggling for utterance. Had a

thousand words depended upon a syllable, I could not have spoken

it. There was a slight movement now audible among the lumber

somewhere forward of my station. The sound presently grew less

distinct, then again less so, and still less. Shall I ever forget

my feelings at this moment? He was going—my friend, my companion,

from whom I had a right to expect so much—he was going—he would

abandon me—he was gone! He would leave me to perish miserably, to

expire in the most horrible and loathesome of dungeons—and one

word, one little syllable, would save me—yet that single syllable

I could not utter! I felt, I am sure, more than ten thousand

times the agonies of death itself. My brain reeled, and I fell,

deadly sick, against the end of the box.

As I fell the carving-knife was shaken out from the waist-band of

my pantaloons, and dropped with a rattling sound to the floor.

Never did any strain of the richest melody come so sweetly to my

ears! With the intensest anxiety I listened to ascertain the

effect of the noise upon Augustus—for I knew that the person who

called my name could be no one but himself. All was silent for

some moments. At length I again heard the word “Arthur!” repeated

in a low tone, and one full of hesitation. Reviving hope loosened

at once my powers of speech, and I now screamed at the top of my

voice, “Augustus! oh, Augustus!” “Hush! for God’s sake be

silent!” he replied, in a voice trembling with agitation; “I will

be with you immediately—as soon as I can make my way through the

hold.” For a long time I heard him moving among the lumber, and

every moment seemed to me an age. At length I felt his hand upon

my shoulder, and he placed, at the same moment, a bottle of water

to my lips. Those only who have been suddenly redeemed from the

jaws of the tomb, or who have known the insufferable torments of

thirst under circumstances as aggravated as those which

encompassed me in my dreary prison, can form any idea of the

unutterable transports which that one long draught of the richest

of all physical luxuries afforded.

When I had in some degree satisfied my thirst, Augustus produced

from his pocket three or four boiled potatoes, which I devoured

with the greatest avidity. He had brought with him a light in a

dark lantern, and the grateful rays afforded me scarcely less

comfort than the food and drink. But I was impatient to learn the

cause of his protracted absence, and he proceeded to recount what

had happened on board during my incarceration.