The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket: Comprising the details of a mutiny and atrocious butchery on board the American brig Grampus, on her way to the South Seas, in the month of June, 1827.Poe, Edgar Allan
General
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket: Comprising the details of a mutiny and atrocious butchery on board the American brig Grampus, on her way to the South Seas, in the month of June, 1827.
Poe, Edgar Allan
Sea stories; Stowaways -- Fiction; Whaling ships -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
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 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 stateroom. The door, however, to my
astonishment, remained steady, and I became somewhat uneasy, for I knew
that it had formerly required 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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