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
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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
_July 31._ After a night of excessive anxiety and fatigue, owing to the
position of the hulk, we set about killing and cutting up our tortoise.
He proved to be much smaller than we had supposed, although in good
condition--the whole meat about him not amounting to more than ten
pounds. With a view of preserving a portion of this as long as
possible, we cut it into fine pieces, and filled with them our three
remaining olive-jars and the wine-bottle (all of which had been kept),
pouring in afterward the vinegar from the olives. In this manner we put
away about three pounds of the tortoise, intending not to touch it
until we had consumed the rest. We concluded to restrict ourselves to
about four ounces of the meat per day; the whole would thus last us
thirteen days. A brisk shower, with severe thunder and lightning, came
on about dusk, but lasted so short a time that we only succeeded in
catching about half a pint of water. The whole of this, by common
consent, was given to Augustus, who now appeared to be in the last
extremity. He drank the water from the sheet as we caught it (we
holding it above him as he lay so as to let it run into his mouth), for
we had now nothing left capable of holding water, unless we had chosen
to empty out our wine from the carboy, or the stale water from the jug.
Either of these expedients would have been resorted to had the shower
lasted.
The sufferer seemed to derive but little benefit from the draught. His
arm was completely black from the wrist to the shoulder, and his feet
were like ice. We expected every moment to see him breathe his last. He
was frightfully emaciated; so much so that, although he weighed a
hundred and twenty-seven pounds upon his leaving Nantucket, he now did
not weigh more than _forty or fifty at the farthest_. His eyes were
sunk far in his head, being scarcely perceptible, and the skin of his
cheeks hung so loosely as to prevent his masticating any food, or even
swallowing any liquid, without great difficulty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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