The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3Poe, Edgar Allan
General
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 3
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American
_March 2d._-To-day by repeated questioning of our captive, we
came to the knowledge of many particulars in regard to the island
of the massacre, its inhabitants, and customs—but with these how
can I now detain the reader? I may say, however, that we learned
there were eight islands in the group—that they were governed by
a common king, named _Tsalemon_or _Psalemoun,_who resided in one
of the smallest of the islands; that the black skins forming the
dress of the warriors came from an animal of huge size to be
found only in a valley near the court of the king—that the
inhabitants of the group fabricated no other boats than the
flat-bottomed rafts; the four canoes being all of the kind in
their possession, and, these having been obtained, by mere
accident, from some large island in the southwest—that his own
name was Nu-Nu—that he had no knowledge of Bennet’s Islet—and
that the appellation of the island he had left was Tsalal. The
commencement of the words _Tsalemon_and Tsalal was given with a
prolonged hissing sound, which we found it impossible to imitate,
even after repeated endeavors, and which was precisely the same
with the note of the black bittern we had eaten up on the summit
of the hill.
_March 3d._-The heat of the water was now truly remarkable, and
in color was undergoing a rapid change, being no longer
transparent, but of a milky consistency and hue. In our immediate
vicinity it was usually smooth, never so rough as to endanger the
canoe—but we were frequently surprised at perceiving, to our
right and left, at different distances, sudden and extensive
agitations of the surface; these, we at length noticed, were
always preceded by wild flickerings in the region of vapor to the
southward.
_March 4th._-To-day, with the view of widening our sail, the
breeze from the northward dying away perceptibly, I took from my
coat-pocket a white handkerchief. Nu-Nu was seated at my elbow,
and the linen accidentally flaring in his face, he became
violently affected with convulsions. These were succeeded by
drowsiness and stupor, and low murmurings of _“‘Tekeli-li!
Tekeli-li!”_
_March_5th.-The wind had entirely ceased, but it was evident that
we were still hurrying on to the southward, under the influence
of a powerful current. And now,—indeed, it would seem reasonable
that we should experience some alarm at the turn events were
taking—but we felt none. The countenance of Peters indicated
nothing of this nature, although it wore at times an expression I
could not fathom. The polar winter appeared to be coming on—but
coming without its terrors. I felt a numbness of body and mind—a
dreaminess of sensation but this was all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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