Моби Дик

The Try-Works

           Wrapped,forthatinterval,indarknessmyself,Ibutthebettersawtheredness,themadness,theghastlinessofothers.Thecontinualsightofthefiendshapesbeforeme,caperinghalfinsmokeandhalfinfire,theseatlastbegatkindredvisionsinmysoul,sosoonasIbegantoyieldtothatunaccountabledrowsinesswhicheverwouldcomeovermeatamidnighthelm.

           Butthatnight,inparticular,astrange(andeversinceinexplicable)thingoccurredtome.Startingfromabriefstandingsleep,Iwashorriblyconsciousofsomethingfatallywrong.Thejaw-bonetillersmotemyside,whichleanedagainstit;inmyearswasthelowhumofsails,justbeginningtoshakeinthewind;Ithoughtmyeyeswereopen;Iwashalfconsciousofputtingmyfingerstothelidsandmechanicallystretchingthemstillfurtherapart.But,spiteofallthis,Icouldseenocompassbeforemetosteerby;thoughitseemedbutaminutesinceIhadbeenwatchingthecard,bythesteadybinnaclelampilluminatingit.Nothingseemedbeforemebutajetgloom,nowandthenmadeghastlybyflashesofredness.Uppermostwastheimpression,thatwhateverswift,rushingthingIstoodonwasnotsomuchboundtoanyhavenaheadasrushingfromallhavensastern.Astark,bewilderedfeeling,asofdeath,cameoverme.Convulsivelymyhandsgraspedthetiller,butwiththecrazyconceitthatthetillerwas,somehow,insomeenchantedway,inverted.MyGod!whatisthematterwithme?thoughtI.

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