...Alas, amidst these many words and crises, I was suddenly aware of the beast straining
for freedom, so quiet had it slipped upon me on this first night of the moon,
and was bid to ask the captain to lock me in my cabin before the
"fits" came onto me again. The
captain ask'd if I was madden'd, for we fancied the ship would break in pieces
every minute, and some told us she was broken already. To lock me away thus would condemn me to
death, or so he believ'd. However, there
was no room to debate, thus he order'd the mate of our vessel to imprison me as
I requested and such was our fate seal'd, for the kind hearted captain planned
in secret with the mate to rescue me against my wishes. The mate was not to lock the door, for once
the other long-boat was in the sea they would rush upon me, bind me against the
violence of my "fits," and carry me to salvation.
I knew none of this, but only that the beast was mere moments from rising up. I pull'd off my own shoes and coats before I
observ'd to my horror the door was as yet still unlock'd. I cried out for the mate to fasten the hasp,
but he had gone and laid hold of the boat, and with the help of the rest of the
men, they got her flung over the ship's side and prepared to get in her.
With my
final clarity I bethought myself that perhaps I should hurl my body from the
rail, to God's mercy and the wild sea, rather than let the beast free among
good men, and so I fled from my cabin into the light of the moon. My vision grew dark and my flesh hot as the
mantle of the beast fell upon me, and I felt my hands upon the rail and then no
more. Merciful God has spared my mind from
much of what transpired after this, but as always I glimps'd and heard meer
moments of what my beast experienc'd.
It was much
anger'd at finding itself cloath'd and it howled and roared and tore at the
rail. The mate and another man ran to
the beast, thinking it was I in my "fit" and try'd to calm it with
words afore they saw its face. The
terror of den wild zee, as the Dutch call the sea in a storm, was naught
compar'd to the beast.
They fled
in fear, and the beast kill'd the mate in a moment, falling on him as wolves do
to lambs, tearing at his flesh until his blood flowed cross the deck. And now the crew's case was very dismal
indeed, for they all saw plainly they must face the beast or risk the high sea
and the dark and distant shore they had glimps'd. Being wise men all, they chose the distant
shore and threw themselves into the boat.
A raging
wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern and broke over the deck and the beast
was driven from its kill. It slid cross
the tilted deck, into the air, and was all swallow’d up in a moment, tho' I can
recall a sight of the wave falling upon the long-boat much as the beast had
fallen upon the mate.
Nothing can
describe the confusion of thought which the beast felt when it sunk into the
water, nor is it easy to make sense from the many images my intoxicated mind
saw through the smok'd lens of the beast.
It swam well, yet disliked water and could not deliver itself from the
waves so as to draw breath. It could not
drown, for the beast is immortal yet for purest silver, yet it could be
thrash’d and batter’d by the waves, as it was.
At one point it felt land under its paws, yet the sea came back as a
great hill of water which buried the beast deep in its body and carry’d it back
away from shore.
There was
much time as the beast fought with the sea.
It would struggle to the shore and then be either dragged back with a
howl or pounded against the land, and this did happen countless times. One time would have been well nigh fatal to
me, for the sea, having hurry'd the beast along, dashed it against a piece of
rock with such force as to leave it senseless.
But it recover’d a little before the return of the waves and held fast
to the rock till the wave abated. Then
the beast struck out again and fetch'd another run up the shore and the next
wave went over it yet did not carry it away...
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