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 120

of the compass. The sky was usually
clear, with now and then a slight appearance of thin vapour in the
southern horizon--this, however, was invariably of brief duration. Two
difficulties alone presented themselves to our view; we were getting
short of fuel, and symptoms of scurvy had occurred among several of the
crew. These considerations began to impress upon Captain Guy the
necessity of returning, and he spoke of it frequently. For my own part,
confident as I was of soon arriving at land of some description upon
the course we were pursuing, and having every reason to believe, from
present appearances, that we should not find it the steril soil met
with in the higher Arctic latitudes, I warmly pressed upon him the
expediency of persevering, at least for a few days longer, in the
direction we were now holding. So tempting an opportunity of solving
the great problem in regard to an Antarctic continent had never yet
been afforded to man, and I confess that I felt myself bursting with
indignation at the timid and ill-timed suggestions of our commander. I
believe, indeed, that what I could not refrain from saying to him on
this head had the effect of inducing him to push on. While, therefore,
I cannot but lament the most unfortunate and bloody events which
immediately arose from my advice, I must still be allowed to feel some
degree of gratification at having been instrumental, however remotely,
in opening to the eye of science one of the most intensely exciting
secrets which has ever engrossed its attention.




CHAPTER XVIII.


_January 18._ This morning[4] we continued to the southward, with the
same pleasant weather as before. The sea was entirely smooth, the air
tolerably warm and from the northeast, the temperature of the water
fifty-three. We now again got our sounding-gear in order, and, with a
hundred and fifty fathoms of line, found the current setting towards
the pole at the rate of a mile an hour. This constant tendency to the
southward, both in the wind and current, caused some degree of
speculation, and even of alarm, in different quarters of the schooner,
and I saw distinctly that no little impression had been made upon the
mind of Captain Guy. He was exceedingly sensitive to ridicule, however,
and I finally succeeded in laughing him out of his apprehensions. The
variation was now very trivial. In the course of the day we saw several
large whales of the right species, and innumerable flights of the
albatross passed over the vessel. We also picked up a bush, full of red
berries, like those of the

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Text Comparison with Le Corbeau = The Raven

Page 0
" _Une fois, par un minuit lugubre, tandis que je m'appesantissais, faible et fatigué, sur maint curieux et bizarre volume de savoir oublié--tandis que je dodelinais la tête, somnolant presque: soudain se fit un heurt, comme de quelqu'un frappant doucement, frappant à la porte de ma chambre--cela seul et rien de plus.
Page 1
c'était en le glacial Décembre: et chaque tison, mourant isolé, ouvrageait son spectre sur le sol.
Page 2
plus.
Page 3
_Au large je poussai le volet; quand, avec maints enjouement et agitation d'ailes, entra un majestueux Corbeau des saints jours de jadis.
Page 4
" _Mais le Corbeau, perché solitairement sur ce buste placide, parla ce seul mot comme si, son âme, en ce seul mot, il la répandait.
Page 5
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee--by these angels he hath sent thee Respite--respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this.
Page 6
«Misérable, m'écriai-je, ton Dieu t'a prêté--il t'a envoyé, par ces anges, le répit--le répit et le népenthès dans ta mémoire de Lénore! Bois! oh! bois ce bon népenthès et oublie cette Lénore perdue!» Le Corbeau dit: «Jamais plus!»_ "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!-- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-- On this home by Horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore-- Is there--_is_ there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.
Page 7
«Recule en la tempête et le rivage plutonien de Nuit! Ne laisse pas une plume noire ici comme un gage du mensonge qu'a proféré ton âme.