By some miracle, I survived. I was jammed in between the sternpost and rudder. With great difficulty, I stood up and looked dizzily[27] around. We were immersed in the whirlpool of a foaming ocean. After a while, I heard the voice of an old Swede, who shipped with us when we leaved port. I hallooed to him and he came to me. We soon discovered we were the only survivors; the wave swept all on desk overboard, the captain and mates were dead too for water flooded their cabins. No one could help us to save the ship.
We were paralyzed by the momentary expectation of going down. Our rope broke at the first breath of the hurricane and the framework of our stern was shattered. We believed that a great wave would finally destroy our poor ship but it did not happen.
For four days and nights, waves carried us down the coast of New Holland. On the fifth day, the wind was blowing more to the northward and it became extremely cold. The sky was thick and grey; no clouds were in it. About noon, we saw the sun. It gave out no light but a dull and sullen glow[28].
Our ship sank within the sea and we could see the sun no more. We fell into complete darkness. The sixth day never arrived – it was an eternal night. We noticed that, though the storm continued, there was no more surf or foam. A superstitious[29] horror filled our souls.
We secured ourselves to the stump of the mast and looked out bitterly into the world of ocean. We had no means of calculating time and we had no idea where we were. We knew, however, we made farther to the southward than any previous navigators. Every moment threatened to be our last. My companion reminded me that our ship has some excellent qualities; but I could not help but feel hopeless.
We were at the bottom of one of these abysses, when a quick scream from my companion broke the night. “See! see!” cried he, shrieking in my ears, “God! see! see!” I saw a dull, sullen glare of red light that fell on our desk. I looked up and my blood froze from what I saw. A gigantic ship, about four thousand tons, floated at a terrific height directly above us. Its size was much bigger than any ship I knew. It was of a deep dark color and had no usual customary carved figures on it. A single row of brass cannon[30] poked out from its open ports. But what mainly inspired us with horror was that the ship bore up under a press of sail in the very teeth of that supernatural sea[31]. For a moment, it paused on the giddy top, then trembled and – came down.
I suddenly felt fearless. I went up as far as I could and waited the ruin that was coming. Our own vessel sank with its head to the sea. The shock of the descending mass struck it and it resulted in throwing me on the rigging[32] of the stranger.
As I fell, the ship anchored. The crew was busy and no one noticed me. I went to the main hatchway, which was open, and hid in the hold. I do not know why I wanted to be unnoticed. Something chilling was in in appearance of the navigator of the ship. I removed a small portion of the shifting-boards and made a hiding-place in the hold. I hardly completed my work when I heard footsteps. A man passed by my place. I did not see his face but I could tell it was an old man. He muttered to himself, in a low broken tone, some words of a language, which I could not understand. He then went to a corner where a pile of singular-looking instruments and old-looking charts of navigation lay. Finally, he went on deck, and I saw him no more.
A strange feeling possessed my soul. I cannot explain this feeling as I never felt like that before. Actually, I doubt anyone ever experienced that. This sense comes from my very specific situation and it makes it hard to understand. A new sense-a new entity is added to my soul.
It has been a long time[33] since I got on that ship. People here are so deeply in thoughts that they never notice me. There is no need for me to hide – they just do not want to see me. I just went into the captain’s own private cabin and took some materials with which I write. I passed directly before the eyes of the mate and he did not care. I will continue my journal and I hope the world will see it. At the last moment, I will put the MS. in a bottle, and throw it within the sea.
A new accident happened that gave me some food for thought[34]. I went on desk and, as usually unnoticed, throw myself on a pile of old sails. While I was laying, I unwittingly started painting with a tar-brush the edges of a sail near me. When I looked at the sail, I saw that my thoughtless touches of the brush formed into the word DISCOVERY.
I made many observations lately on the structure of the ship. Although it is well armed, it is not a ship of war. The general equipment confirms this. It is easy to tell what this ship is not and it is hard to tell what it is. Its strange model, huge size, a simple bow and antiquated stern make me think of old foreign chronicles and ages long ago.
I inspected the timbers of the ship. I am not familiar with the wood the ship is built of but there is something about it that strikes me. The wood is extremely porous and old. It seems to me that it has every characteristic of Spanish oak, if Spanish oak were distended by any unnatural means.
I remembered an old weather-beaten Dutch navigator that usually said, “It is as sure as sure as there is a sea where the ship itself will grow in bulk like the living body of the seaman[35].”
About an hour ago, I got myself among a group of the crew. They paid no attention to me although I stood in the very midst of them all. It seemed they had no clue about my presence. I noted that all of them were really old. Their knees trembled, their shoulders were down; they had wrinkled skin, low voices and gray hair. Strange and obsolete[36] mathematical instruments were all around them.
Our ship continued its course due south despite raging waves of ocean[37]. I just left the desk because I could not stay on my feet. The crew, however, has no problem with it.
It is a miracle to me that we were not swollen by the ocean yet. We slipped away from the waves like sea gulls. The only explanation for this, I think, is that some strong current keeps us afloat.
I saw the captain face to face. I met him in his own cabin and, as I expected, he paid no attention to me. His appearance inspires respect for him. His face has the stamp of a myriad of years. His gray hairs are records of the past, and his grayer eyes are sibyls of the future. The cabin was full of iron-clasped folios, moldering instruments of science and obsolete long-forgotten charts. The captain had a paper in his hands with the signature of a monarch. He muttered to himself some curses of a foreign tongue. Although I stood next to him, his voice seemed distant.
The ship and everything on it have the spirit of old age. The crew go around like ghosts. I was a dealer in antiquities for all my life and I saw the shadows of fallen columns at Balbec[38], and Tadmor[39], and Persepolis[40]; but nothing ever gave me such strange feeling as seeing them.
When I look around me, I feel ashamed of my former fears. There is no word to describe the battle of wind and ocean that captured us. All near the ship is the blackness of eternal night and a chaos of foamless water. The only thing I can