Text: Edgar Allan Poe, “Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (Chapter 01)” (comparative text - SLM and PYM)


Texts Represented:

  • 1837-01 - Southern Literary Messenger (January 1837)
  • 1838-02 - The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838)










{{1837-01: My //1838-02: MY }} name is Arthur Gordon Pym. My father was a respectable trader in sea-stores at Nantucket, where I was born. My maternal grandfather was an attorney in good practice. He was fortunate in {{1837-01: every thing //1838-02: everything }} , and had speculated very successfully in stocks of the Edgarton New Bank, as it was formerly called. By these and other means {{1837-01: , }} he had managed to lay by a tolerable sum of money. He was more attached to myself, I believe, than to any other person in the world, and I expected to inherit the most of his property at his death. He sent me, at six years of age, to the school of old Mr. Ricketts, a gentleman with only one arm, and of eccentric manners — he is well known to almost every person who has visited New Bedford. I {{1837-01: staid //1838-02: stayed }} at his school until I was {{1837-01: fourteen //1838-02: sixteen }} , when I left him for Mr. E. Ronald's {{1837-01: Academy //1838-02: academy }} on the hill. Here I became intimate with the son of Mr. Barnard, a {{1837-01: sea-captain //1838-02: sea captain }} , who generally sailed in the employ of Lloyd and Vredenburgh — Mr. Barnard is also very well known in New Bedford, and has many relations, I am certain, in Edgarton. His son was named Augustus, and he was nearly two years older than myself. He had been on a whaling voyage with his father in the John Donaldson, and was always talking to me of his adventures in the South Pacific Ocean. I used frequently to go home with him {{1838-02: , }} and remain all day, and sometimes all night. We occupied the same bed, and he would be sure to keep me awake until almost light,telling me stories of the natives of the {{1837-01: island //1838-02: Island }} of Tinian, and other places he had visited in his travels. At last I could not help being interested in what he said, and by degrees I felt the greatest desire to go to sea. I owned a sail-boat called the Ariel, and worth about seventy-five dollars. She had a half-deck or cuddy, and was rigged sloop-fashion — I forget her tonnage, but she would hold ten persons without much crowding. In this boat we were in the habit of going on some of the maddest freaks in the world {{1837-01: : //1838-02: ; }} and, when I now think of them, it appears to me a thousand wonders that I am alive to-day.

{{1838-02: I will relate one of these adventures by way of introduction to a longer and more momentous narrative. }} One night there was a party at Mr. Barnard's, and both Augustus and myself were not a little intoxicated towards the close of it. As usual, in such cases, I took part of his bed in preference to going home. He went to sleep, as I thought, very quietly {{1837-01: , }} (it being near one when the party broke up {{1837-01: , }} ) {{1838-02: , }} and without saying a word on his {{1837-01: favorite //1838-02: favourite }} topic. It might have been half an hour from the time of our getting in bed, and I was just about falling into a doze, when he suddenly started up, and swore with a terrible oath that he would not go to sleep for any Arthur Pym in Christendom, when there was so glorious a breeze from the {{1837-01: south-west //1838-02: southwest }} . I never was so astonished in my life, not knowing what he intended, and thinking that the wines and liquors he had drunk had set him entirely beside himself. He proceeded to talk very {{1837-01: cooly [[coolly]] //1838-02: coolly }} , however {{1837-01: ; //1838-02: , }} saying he knew that I supposed him intoxicated, but that he was never more sober in his life. He was only tired, he added, of lying in bed on such a fine night like a dog, and was determined to get up and dress, and go out on a frolic with the boat. I can hardly tell what possessed me, but the words were no sooner out of his mouth than I felt a thrill of the greatest excitement and pleasure, and thought his mad idea one of the most delightful and most reasonable things in the world. It was blowing almost a gale, and the weather was very cold — it being late in October. I sprang out of bed, nevertheless, in a kind of {{1837-01: ecstacy [[ecstasy]] //1838-02: ecstasy }} , and told him I was quite as brave as himself, and quite as tired as he was of lying in bed like a dog, and quite as ready for any fun or frolic as any Augustus Barnard in Nantucket.

We lost no time in getting on our clothes and hurrying down to the boat. She was lying at the old decayed wharf by the {{1837-01: lumber yard //1838-02: lumber-yard }} of Pankey & Co. {{1838-02: , }} and almost thumping her sides out against the rough logs. Augustus got into her and bailed her, for she was nearly half full of water. This being done, we hoisted jib and mainsail, kept full, and started boldly out to sea.

The wind, as I before said, blew freshly from the {{1837-01: south-west //1838-02: southwest }} . The night was very clear and cold. Augustus had taken the helm, and I stationed myself by the mast, on the deck of the cuddy. We flew along at a great rate — neither of us having said a word since casting loose from the wharf. I now asked my companion what course he intended to steer, and what time he thought it probable we should get back. He whistled for a few minutes, and then said crustily, “I am going to sea — you may go home if you think proper.” Turning my eyes upon him, I perceived at once, that in spite of his assumed nonchalance, he was greatly agitated. I could see him distinctly by the light of the moon — his face was paler than any marble, and his hand shook so excessively, that he could scarcely retain hold of the tiller. I found that something had gone wrong, and became seriously alarmed. At this period I knew little about the management of a boat, and was now depending entirely upon the nautical skill of my friend. The wind too had suddenly increased, as we were fast getting out of the lee of the land — still I was ashamed to betray any trepidation, and for almost half an hour maintained a resolute silence. I could stand it no longer, however, and spoke to Augustus about the propriety of turning back. As before, it was nearly a minute before he made answer, or took any notice of my suggestion. “By-and-bye,” said he at length — “time enough — home by-and-bye.” I had expected a similar reply, but there was something in the tone of these words which filled me with an indescribable feeling of dread. I again looked at the speaker attentively. His lips were perfectly livid, and his knees shook so violently together that he seemed scarcely able to stand. “For God's sake, Augustus,” I screamed, now heartily frightened, “what ails you? — what is the matter? — what are you going to do?” “Matter!” he stammered in the greatest apparent surprise, letting go the tiller at the same moment, and falling forward into the bottom of the boat — “matter! — why, nothing is the — matter — going home — d—d — don't you see?” The whole truth now flashed upon me. I flew to him and raised him up. He was drunk — beastly drunk — he could no longer either stand, speak, or see. His eyes were perfectly glazed {{1837-01: , //1838-02: ; }} and as I let him go in the extremity of my despair, he rolled like a mere log into the bilge-water, from which I had lifted him. It was evident that, during the evening, he had drunk far more than I {{1837-01: had }} suspected {{1838-02: , }} and that his conduct in bed had been the result of a {{1837-01: highly concentrated //1838-02: highly-concentrated }} state of intoxication — a state which, like madness, frequently enables the victim to imitate the outward {{1837-01: demeanor //1838-02: demeanour }} of one in perfect possession of his senses. The coolness of the night air, however, had had its usual effect — the mental energy began to yield before its influence — and the confused perception which he no doubt then had of his perilous situation {{1837-01: , }} had assisted in hastening the catastrophe. He was now thoroughly insensible, and there was no probability that he would be otherwise for many hours.

It is hardly possible to conceive the extremity of my terror. The fumes of the wine lately taken had evaporated, leaving me doubly timid and irresolute. I knew that I was altogether incapable of managing the boat, and that a fierce wind and strong ebb tide were hurrying us to destruction. A storm was evidently gathering behind us; we had neither compass nor provisions; and it was clear that, if we held our present course, we should be out of sight of land before {{1837-01: day-break //1838-02: daybreak }} . These thoughts, with a crowd of others equally fearful, flashed through my mind with a bewildering rapidity, and for some moments paralyzed me beyond the possibility of making any exertion. The boat was going through the water at a terrible rate — full before the wind — no reef in either jib or mainsail — running her bows completely under the foam. It was a thousand wonders she did not broach to {{1837-01: ; //1838-02:}} Augustus having let go the tiller, as I said before, and I being too much agitated to think of taking it myself. By good luck, however, she kept steady {{1837-01: ; //1838-02: , }} and {{1837-01: , }} gradually {{1837-01: , }} I recovered some degree of presence of mind. Still the wind was increasing fearfully {{1837-01: , //1838-02: ; }} and whenever we rose from a plunge forward, the sea behind fell combing over our counter, and deluged us with water. I was so utterly benumbed, too, in every limb, as to be nearly unconscious of sensation. At length I summoned up the resolution of despair, and {{1837-01: , }} rushing to the mainsail, let it go by the run. As might have been expected, it flew over the bows, and, getting drenched with water, carried away the mast short off by the board. This latter accident alone saved me from instant destruction. Under the jib only, I now boomed along before the wind, shipping heavy seas occasionally over the counter, but relieved from the terror of immediate death. I took the helm, and breathed with greater freedom {{1837-01: , }} as I found that there yet remained to us a chance of ultimate escape. Augustus still lay senseless in the bottom of the boat {{1837-01: , //1838-02: ; }} and as there was imminent danger of his drowning {{1837-01: , }} (the water being nearly a foot deep just where he fell) {{1838-02: , }} I contrived to raise him partially up, and keep him in a sitting position, by passing a rope round his waist, and lashing it to a {{1837-01: ring-bolt //1838-02: ringbolt }} in the deck of the cuddy. Having thus arranged {{1837-01: every thing //1838-02: everything }} as well as I could in my chilled and agitated condition, I recommended myself to God, and made up my mind to bear whatever might happen with all the fortitude in my power.

Hardly had I come to this resolution, when, suddenly, a loud and long scream or yell, as if from the throats of a thousand demons, seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere around and above the boat. Never while I live shall I forget the intense agony of terror I experienced at that moment. My hair stood erect on my head — I felt the blood congealing in my veins — my heart ceased utterly to beat, and without having once raised my eyes to learn the source of my alarm, I tumbled headlong and insensible upon the body of my fallen companion.

I found myself, upon reviving, in the cabin of a large whaling-ship (the Penguin) bound to Nantucket. Several persons were standing over me, and Augustus, paler than death, was busily occupied in chafing my hands. Upon seeing me open my eyes, his exclamations of gratitude and joy excited alternate laughter and tears from the {{1837-01: rough looking //1838-02: rough-looking }} personages who were present. The mystery of our being in existence was now soon explained. We had been run down by the whaling-ship, which was close hauled, beating up to Nantucket with every sail she could venture to set, and consequently running almost at right angles to our own course. Several men were on the {{1837-01: look out //1838-02: look-out }} forward, but did not perceive our boat until it was an impossibility to avoid coming in contact — their shouts of warning upon seeing us were what so terribly alarmed me. The huge ship, I was told, rode immediately over us with as much ease as our own little vessel would have passed over a feather, and without the least perceptible impediment to her progress. Not a scream arose from the deck of the victim — there was a slight grating sound to be heard mingling with the roar of wind and water, as the frail bark which was swallowed up {{1837-01: , }} rubbed {{1837-01: , }} for a moment {{1837-01: , }} along the keel of her destroyer — but this was all. Thinking our boat (which it will be remembered was dismasted) some mere shell cut adrift as useless, the captain (Captain E. T. V. Block of New London) was for proceeding on his course without troubling himself {{1837-01: farther //1838-02: further }} about the matter. Luckily, there were two of the {{1837-01: look out //1838-02: look-out }} who swore positively to having seen some person at our helm, and represented the possibility of yet saving him. A discussion ensued, when Block grew angry, and {{1838-02: , }} after a while {{1838-02: , }} said that “it was no business of his to be eternally watching for egg-shells {{1837-01: , //1838-02: ; }} that the ship should not put about for any such nonsense {{1837-01: , //1838-02: ; }} and if there was a man run down, it was nobody's fault but his own — he might drown and be d—d,” or some language to that effect. Henderson, the first mate, now took the matter up, being justly indignant, as well as the whole ship's crew, at a speech evincing so base a degree of heartless atrocity. He spoke plainly, seeing himself upheld by the men, told the captain he considered him a fit subject for the gallows, and that he would disobey his orders if he were {{1837-01: hung //1838-02: hanged }} for it the moment he set his foot on shore. He strode aft, jostling Block (who turned very pale and made no answer) on one side, and {{1837-01: , }} seizing the helm, gave the word {{1838-02: , }} in a firm voice, Hard-a-lee! The men flew to their posts, and the ship went cleverly about. All this had occupied nearly five minutes, and it was supposed to be hardly within the bounds of possibility that any individual could be saved — allowing any to have been on board the boat. Yet {{1838-02: , }} as the reader has seen, both Augustus and myself were rescued; and our deliverance seemed to have been brought about by two of those almost inconceivable pieces of good fortune which are attributed by the wise and pious to the special interference of Providence.

While the ship was yet in stays {{1838-02: , }} the mate lowered the jolly-boat and jumped into her with the very two men, I believe, who spoke up as having seen me at the helm. They had just left the lee of the vessel (the moon still shining brightly) when she made a long and heavy roll to windward, and Henderson, at the same moment, starting up in his seat, bawled out to his crew to back water. He would say nothing else — repeating his cry impatiently, back water! back water! The men put back as speedily as possible; but by this time the ship had gone round, and gotten fully under headway, although all hands on board were making great exertions to take in sail. In despite of the danger of the attempt, the mate clung to the main-chains as soon as they came within his reach. Another huge lurch now brought the starboard side of the vessel out of water nearly as far as her keel, when the cause of his anxiety was rendered obvious enough. The body of a man was seen to be affixed in the most singular manner to the smooth and shining bottom {{1837-01: , }} (the Penguin was coppered and copper-fastened) {{1838-02: , }} and beating violently against it with every movement of the hull. After several ineffectual efforts, made during the lurches of the ship, and at the imminent risk of swamping the boat, I was finally disengaged from my perilous situation and taken on board — for the body proved to be my own. It appeared that {{1837-01: , }} one of the timber-bolts having started and broken a passage through the copper, it had arrested my progress as I passed under the ship, and fastened me in so extraordinary a manner to her bottom. The head of the bolt had made its way through the collar of the green baize jacket I had on, and through the back part of my neck, forcing itself out between two sinews and just below the right ear. I was immediately put to bed — although life seemed to be totally extinct. There was no surgeon on board. The captain, however, treated me with every attention — to make amends, I presume, in the eyes of his crew, for his atrocious {{1837-01: behavior //1838-02: behaviour }} in the previous portion of the adventure.

In the meantime, Henderson had again put off from the ship, although the wind was now blowing almost a hurricane. He had not been gone many minutes when he fell in with some fragments of our boat, and shortly {{1837-01: afterwards //1838-02: afterward }} one of the men with him asserted that he could distinguish a cry for help at intervals amid the roaring of the tempest. This induced the hardy seamen to persevere in their search for more than half an hour, although repeated signals to return were made them by Captain Block, and although every moment on the water in so frail a boat was fraught to them with the most imminent and deadly peril. Indeed {{1838-02: , }} it is nearly impossible to conceive how the small jolly they were in could have escaped destruction for a single instant. She was built, however, for the whaling service, and was fitted, as I have since had reason to believe, with air-boxes, in the manner of some life-boats used on the coast of Wales.

After searching in vain for about the period of time just mentioned, it was determined to get back to the ship. They had scarcely made this resolve when a feeble cry arose from a dark object which floated rapidly by. They pursued and soon overtook it. It proved to be the entire deck of the Ariel's cuddy. Augustus was struggling near it, apparently in the last agonies. Upon getting hold of him it was found that he was attached by a rope to the floating timber. This rope, it will be remembered, I had myself tied round his waist, and made fast to a {{1837-01: ring-bolt //1838-02: ringbolt }} , for the purpose of keeping him in an upright position, and my so doing, it appeared, had been ultimately the means of preserving his life. The Ariel was slightly put together, and in going down her frame naturally went to pieces; the deck of the cuddy, as might have been expected, was lifted, by the force of the water rushing in, entirely from the main timbers, and floated (with other fragments {{1838-02: , }} no doubt) to the surface — Augustus was buoyed up with it, and thus escaped a terrible death.

It was more than an hour after being taken on board the Penguin before he could give any account of himself, or be made to comprehend the nature of the accident which had befallen our boat. At length he became thoroughly aroused, and spoke much of his sensations while in the water. Upon his first attaining any degree of consciousness, he found himself beneath the surface, whirling round and round with inconceivable rapidity, and with a rope wrapped {{1837-01: , }} in three or four folds {{1837-01: , }} tightly about his neck. In an instant {{1837-01: afterwards //1838-02: afterward }} he felt himself going rapidly {{1837-01: upwards //1838-02: upward }} , when, his head striking violently against a hard substance, he again relapsed into insensibility. Upon once more reviving he was in fuller possession of his reason — this was still, however, in the greatest degree clouded and confused. He now knew that some accident had occurred, and that he was in the water, although his mouth was above the surface {{1838-02: , }} and he could breathe with some freedom. Possibly, at this period, the deck was drifting rapidly before the wind {{1838-02: , }} and drawing him after it, as he floated upon his back. Of course, as long as he could have retained this position, it would have been nearly impossible that he should be drowned. Presently a surge threw him directly athwart the deck; and this post he {{1837-01: endeavored //1838-02: endeavoured }} to maintain, screaming at intervals for help. Just before he was discovered by Mr. Henderson, he had been obliged to relax his hold through exhaustion, and, falling into the sea, had given himself up for lost. During the whole period of his struggles he had not the faintest recollection of the Ariel, nor of the matters in connexion with the source of his disaster. A vague feeling of terror and despair had taken entire possession of his faculties. When he was finally picked up, every power of his mind had failed him; and, as before said, it was nearly an hour after getting on board the Penguin before he became fully aware of his condition. In regard to myself — I was resuscitated from a state bordering very nearly upon death {{1837-01: , }} (and after every other means had been tried in vain for three hours and a half {{1837-01: , }} ) by vigorous friction with flannels bathed in hot oil — a proceeding suggested by Augustus. The wound in my neck, although of an ugly appearance, proved of little real consequence, and I soon recovered from its effects.

The Penguin got into port about nine o’clock in the morning, after encountering one of the severest gales ever experienced off Nantucket. Both Augustus and myself managed to appear at Mr. Barnard's in time for breakfast — which, luckily, was somewhat late, owing to the party over night. I suppose all at the table were too much fatigued themselves to notice our jaded appearance — of course, it would not have borne a very rigid scrutiny. Schoolboys, however, can accomplish wonders in the way of deception, and I verily believe not one of our friends in Nantucket had the slightest suspicion that the terrible story told by some sailors in town of their having run down a vessel at sea and drowned some thirty or forty poor devils, had reference either to the Ariel, my companion, or myself. We two have since very frequently talked the matter over — but never without a shudder. In one of our conversations {{1837-01: , }} Augustus frankly confessed to me {{1838-02: , }} that in his whole life he had at no time experienced so excruciating a sense of dismay, as when on board our little boat he first discovered the extent of his intoxication, and felt himself sinking beneath its influence.


In no affairs of mere prejudice, pro or con, do we deduce inferences with entire certainty even from the most simple data. It might be supposed that a catastrophe such as I have just related, would have effectually cooled my incipient passion for the sea. On the contrary, I never experienced a more ardent longing for the wild adventures incident to the life of a navigator than within a week after our miraculous deliverance. This short period proved amply long enough to erase from my memory the shadows, and bring out in vivid light all the pleasurably exciting points of color, all the picturesqueness, of the late perilous accident. My conversations with Augustus grew daily more frequent and more intensely full of interest. He had a manner of relating his stories of the ocean, (more than one half of which I now suspect to have been sheer fabrications) well adapted to have weight with one of my enthusiastic temperament, and somewhat gloomy although glowing imagination. It is strange too, that he most strongly enlisted my feelings in behalf of the life of a seaman, when he depicted his more terrible moments of suffering and despair. For the bright side of the painting I had a limited sympathy. My visions were of shipwreck and famine; of death or captivity among barbarian hordes; of a long life-time dragged out in sorrow and tears, upon some grey and desolate rock, in an ocean unapproachable and unknown. Such visions or desires — for they amounted to desires — are common, I have been since assured, to the whole numerous race of the melancholy among men — at the time of which I speak I regarded them only as prophetic glimpses of a destiny which I felt myself in a measure bound to fulfil. Augustus thoroughly entered into my state of mind. It is probable indeed that our intimate communion had resulted in a partial interchange of character.

During the three or four months immediately succeeding the period of the Ariel's disaster, the firm of Lloyd and Vredenburgh (a house connected in some manner with the Messieurs Enderby, I believe, of Liverpool) were engaged in repairing and fitting out the brig Grampus for a whaling voyage. She was an old hulk, and scarcely sea-worthy when all was done to her that could be done. I hardly know why she was chosen in preference to other good vessels belonging to the same owners — but so it was. Mr. Barnard was appointed to command her, and Augustus was going with him. While the brig was getting ready he frequently urged upon me the excellency of the opportunity now offered for indulging my desire of travel. He found me by no means an unwilling listener — yet the matter could not be so easily arranged. My father made no direct opposition; but my mother went into hysterics at the bare mention of the design, and, more than all, my grandfather, from whom I expected much, vowed to cut me off with a shilling if I should ever broach the subject to him again. These difficulties, however, so far from abating my desire, only added fuel to the flame. I determined to go at all hazards, and, having made known my intention to Augustus, we set about arranging a plan by which it might be accomplished. In the meantime I forbore speaking to any of my relations in regard to the voyage, and, as I busied myself ostensibly with my usual studies, it was supposed that I had abandoned the design. I have since frequently examined my conduct on this occasion, with sentiments of displeasure as well as of surprise. The intense hypocrisy I made use of for the furtherance of my project — an hypocrisy pervading every word and action of my life for so long a period of time — could only have been rendered tolerable to myself by the wild and burning expectation with which I looked forward to the fulfilment of my long-cherished visions of travel.

In pursuance of my scheme of deception, I was necessarily obliged to leave much to the management of Augustus, who was employed for the greater part of every day on board the Grampus, attending to some arrangements for his father in the cabin and cabin hold. At night, however, we were sure to have a conference and talk over our hopes. After nearly a month passed in this manner without our hitting upon any plan we thought likely to succeed, he told me at last that he had determined upon every thing necessary. I had a relation living in New Bedford, a Mr. Ross, at whose house I was in the habit of spending occasionally two or three weeks at a time. The brig was to sail about the middle of April, (April 1827) and it was agreed that a day or two before her putting to sea, my father was to receive a note, as usual, from Mr. Ross, asking me to come over and spend a fortnight with Robert and Emmet (his sons.) [[sic]] Augustus charged himself with the inditing of this note and getting it delivered. Having set out, as supposed, for New Bedford, I was then to report myself to my companion, who would contrive a hiding-place for me in the Grampus. This hiding place, he assured me, would be rendered sufficiently comfortable for a residence of many days, during which I was not to make my appearance. When the brig had proceeded so far on her course as to make any turning back a matter out of question, I should then, he said, be formally installed in all the comforts of the cabin, and as to his father he would only laugh heartily at the joke. Vessels enough would be met with by which a letter might be sent home explaining the adventure to my parents.


[[This portion moved to the beginning of chapter 02, where the variants will be shown]]




For an explanation of the formatting used in this comparative text, see editorial policies and methods.

Because this presentation represents multiple texts, with differing pagination, page numbers have been omitted.

Only the first two installments of the story were printed in the SLM, and they do not quite align with the first two chapters as they were printed in the book in 1838. The last few paragraphs provided above can actually be found as the beginning of chapter 02.



[S:0 - JAS] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - Tales - Narrative of A. G. Pym (comparative - SLM and PYM)