The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 1


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To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I presume, utterly  
impossible; yet a curiosity to penetrate the mysteries of these awful  
regions, predominates even over my despair, and will reconcile me to the  
most hideous aspect of death. It is evident that we are hurrying onwards  
to some exciting knowledge--some never-to-be-imparted secret, whose  
attainment is destruction. Perhaps this current leads us to the southern  
pole itself. It must be confessed that a supposition apparently so wild  
has every probability in its favor.  
*
* * * *  
The crew pace the deck with unquiet and tremulous step; but there is  
upon their countenances an expression more of the eagerness of hope than  
of the apathy of despair.  
In the meantime the wind is still in our poop, and, as we carry a crowd  
of canvas, the ship is at times lifted bodily from out the sea--Oh,  
horror upon horror! the ice opens suddenly to the right, and to the  
left, and we are whirling dizzily, in immense concentric circles, round  
and round the borders of a gigantic amphitheatre, the summit of whose  
walls is lost in the darkness and the distance. But little time will be  
left me to ponder upon my destiny--the circles rapidly grow small--we  
are plunging madly within the grasp of the whirlpool--and amid a  
roaring, and bellowing, and thundering of ocean and of tempest, the ship  
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Page
351 352 353 354 355

Quick Jump
1 90 180 269 359