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
“The result was precisely what I had hoped it might be. As it is myself
who now tells you this tale—as you see that I _did_ escape—and as you are
already in possession of the mode in which this escape was effected, and
must therefore anticipate all that I have further to say—I will bring my
story quickly to conclusion. It might have been an hour, or thereabout,
after my quitting the smack, when, having descended to a vast distance
beneath me, it made three or four wild gyrations in rapid succession,
and, bearing my loved brother with it, plunged headlong, at once and
forever, into the chaos of foam below. The barrel to which I was attached
sunk very little farther than half the distance between the bottom of
the gulf and the spot at which I leaped overboard, before a great change
took place in the character of the whirlpool. The slope of the sides of
the vast funnel became momently less and less steep. The gyrations of
the whirl grew, gradually, less and less violent. By degrees, the froth
and the rainbow disappeared, and the bottom of the gulf seemed slowly to
uprise. The sky was clear, the winds had gone down, and the full moon
was setting radiantly in the west, when I found myself on the surface
of the ocean, in full view of the shores of Lofoden, and above the spot
where the pool of the Moskoe-strom _had been_. It was the hour of the
slack; but the sea still heaved in mountainous waves from the effects of
the hurricane. I was borne violently into the channel of the strom, and
in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the ‘grounds’ of the
fishermen. A boat picked me up—exhausted from fatigue—and (now that the
danger was removed) speechless from the memory of its horror. Those who
drew me on board were my old mates and daily companions, but they knew me
no more than they would have known a traveler from the spirit-land. My
hair, which had been raven-black the day before, was as white as you see
it now. They say, too, that the whole expression of my countenance had
changed. I told them my story—they did not believe it. I now tell it to
you—and I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the
merry fishermen of Lofoden.”
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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