The southern literary messenger, Vol. II., No. 7, June, 1836Various
History
The southern literary messenger, Vol. II., No. 7, June, 1836
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
tremendous dimensions had been thrown into it. Our commander feared we
had delayed too long, and gave orders to make speedy sail for our
destined port. For some time we made good headway, and all hearts were
cheered, when, on the utmost verge of the horizon, we discerned the
faint outline of land, which we hoped would prove to be the coast of
Iceland, for which we now steered with all our press of sail. But just
at this time, while we were making observation in the direction of our
course, a moving mountain hove in view; at first like a cloud resting
on the water, but soon the wary eye of the fisherman saw it fraught
with danger, and with dread. An iceberg! an iceberg! and the panic ran
through all the ranks, for our course was right in the track of the
{429} horrific apparition. To recede was impossible, as the wind would
be against us; our utmost exertions were strained to clear the passage
in time, for before it heaved a mountain of waters, and behind it
yawned a devouring gulph. The three hours of intense interest and
uncertainty which passed, seemed like one moment drawn out to
eternity. But we did clear its track so as to receive only a slight
shock. As soon as the danger was over a reaction followed, almost too
great for human nature; our nerves from being strained to their utmost
tension, were suddenly relaxed to the weakness of infancy; our first
desires were for stimulants which threw us into wild excitement; and
our ships exhibited one scene of revelry and recklessness. In this
situation we rushed unconsciously on a reef of rocks from which escape
seemed impossible. We were already in pitchy darkness, driving among
the breakers, which we heard with still greater force roaring ahead.
It evidently appeared that we had forsaken our passage, and were on an
unknown coast where shipwreck and death awaited us. This was the
situation of our ship; we could not hear a sound from the other
vessels amidst the roar of waters, but we supposed that they also were
beating on rocks from which it was impossible to move them. Daylight
only was necessary to confirm our despair, and its first rays shone on
a scene of horror too great for utterance. We beheld our ship just in
the jaws of destruction, while the other three had cleared a passage,
and were free of the rocks, but dared not come within the force of the
breakers. In vain we held out the signal of distress; in vain they
lowered their boats and attempted to stem the whirlpool. Instant
destruction would have been their fate. I saw my companions clinging
to the broken masts and spars; but I made no effort: I sunk under the
impending weight of that power whose bounty and mercy I had forgotten
or despised in my days of prosperity, and whose incensed justice and
vengeance I was now to feel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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