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.

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 117

The sea in which we now were was thickly covered with ice
islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as before. The
cold did not seem to increase, although we had snow very frequently,
and now and then hail squalls of great violence. Immense flocks of the
albatross flew over the schooner this day, going from southeast to

_January 7._ The sea still remained pretty well open, so that we had no
difficulty in holding on our course. To the westward we saw some
icebergs of incredible size, and in the afternoon passed very near one
whose summit could not have been less than four hundred fathoms from
the surface of the ocean. Its girth was probably, at the base, three
quarters of a league, and several streams of water were running from
crevices in its sides. We remained in sight of this island two days,
and then only lost it in a fog.

_January 10._ Early this morning we had the misfortune to lose a man
overboard. He was an American, named Peter Vredenburgh, a native of
New-York, and was one of the most valuable hands on board the schooner.
In going over the bows his foot slipped, and he fell between two cakes
of ice, never rising again. At noon of this day we were in latitude 78°
30', longitude 40° 15' W. The cold was now excessive, and we had hail
squalls continually from the northward and eastward. In this direction
also we saw several more immense icebergs, and the whole horizon to the
eastward appeared to be blocked up with field ice, rising in tiers, one
mass above the other. Some driftwood floated by during the evening, and
a great quantity of birds flew over, among which were Nellies,
peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird of a brilliant blue plumage.
The variation here, per azimuth, was less than it had been previously
to our passing the Antarctic circle.

_January 12._ Our passage to the south again looked doubtful, as
nothing was to be seen in the direction of the pole but one apparently
limitless floe, backed by absolute mountains of ragged ice, one
precipice of which arose frowningly above the other. We stood to the
westward until the fourteenth, in the hope of finding an entrance.

_January 14._ This morning we reached the western extremity of the
field which had impeded us, and, weathering it, came to an open sea,
without a particle of ice. Upon sounding with two hundred fathoms, we
here found a current setting southwardly at the rate of half a mile per
hour. The

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