Junior High School Literature, Book 1Elson, William H. (William Harris)
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Junior High School Literature, Book 1
Elson, William H. (William Harris)
American literature; English literature; Readers
“How often we made the circuit of the belt it is impossible to say.
We careered round and round for perhaps an hour, flying rather than
floating, getting gradually more and more into the middle of the surge,
and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge. All this time I
had never let go of the ringbolt. My brother was at the stern, holding on
to a small empty water-cask which had been securely lashed under the coop
of the counter, and was the only thing on deck that had not been swept
overboard when the gale first took us. As we approached the brink of the
pit he let go his hold upon this, and made for the ring, from which, in
the agony of his terror, he endeavored to force my hands, as it was not
large enough to afford us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief
than when I saw him attempt this act—although I knew he was a madman when
he did it—a raving maniac through sheer fright. I did not care, however,
to contest the point with him. I knew it could make no difference whether
either of us held on at all; so I let him have the bolt, and went astern
to the cask. This there was no great difficulty in doing; for the smack
flew round steadily enough, and upon an even keel—only swaying to and
fro, with the immense sweeps and swelters of the whirl. Scarcely had
I secured myself in my new position, when we gave a wild lurch to
starboard, and rushed headlong into the abyss. I muttered a hurried
prayer to God, and thought all was over.
“As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent, I had instinctively
tightened my hold upon the barrel, and closed my eyes. For some seconds
I dared not open them—while I expected instant destruction, and wondered
that I was not already in my death-struggles with the water. But moment
after moment elapsed. I still lived. The sense of falling had ceased;
and the motion of the vessel seemed much as it had been before, while in
the belt of foam, with the exception that she now lay more along. I took
courage and looked once again upon the scene.
“Never shall I forget the sensations of awe, horror, and admiration with
which I gazed about me. The boat appeared to be hanging, as if by magic,
midway down, upon the interior surface of a funnel vast in circumference,
prodigious in depth, and whose perfectly smooth sides might have been
mistaken for ebony, but for the bewildering rapidity with which they spun
around, and for the gleaming and ghastly radiance they shot forth, as
the rays of the full moon, from that circular rift amid the clouds which
I have already described, streamed in a flood of golden glory along the
black walls, and far away down into the inmost recesses of the abyss.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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