We
observed too, that, although the tempest continued to rage with
unabated violence, there was no longer to be discovered the usual
appearance of surf, or foam, which had hitherto attended us. All
around were horror, and thick gloom, and a black sweltering desert
of ebony. --Superstitious terror crept by degrees into the spirit of
the old Swede, and my own soul was wrapped up in silent wonder. We
neglected all care of the ship, as worse than useless, and securing
ourselves, as well as possible, to the stump of the mizen-mast, looked
out bitterly into the world of ocean. We had no means of calculating
time, nor could we form any guess of our situation. We were,
however, well aware of having made farther to the southward than any
previous navigators, and felt great amazement at not meeting with
the usual impediments of ice. In the meantime every moment
threatened to be our last --every mountainous billow hurried to
overwhelm us. The swell surpassed anything I had imagined possible,
and that we were not instantly buried is a miracle. My companion spoke
of the lightness of our cargo, and reminded me of the excellent
qualities of our ship; but I could not help feeling the utter
hopelessness of hope itself, and prepared myself gloomily for that
death which I thought nothing could defer beyond an hour, as, with
every knot of way the ship made, the swelling of the black
stupendous seas became more dismally appalling.
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