"The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym..." - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

of the pretended fiction appeared, consequently, in the Messenger
for January and February, (1837), and, in order that it might
certainly be regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to
the articles in the table of contents of the magazine.
The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at
length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the
adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable
which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of my
statement which appeared in the Messenger (without altering or
distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all disposed
to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s
address, distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary. I
thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would prove of such
a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their own
authenticity, and that I had consequently little to fear on the
score of popular incredulity.
This expose being made, it will be seen at once how much of what
follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood
that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were
written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the
Messenger, it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion
ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be
readily perceived.
A. G. PYM.
New-York, July, 1838.
CHAPTER I

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
every thing, and had speculated very successfully in stocks of the
Edgarton New Bank, as it was formerly called. By these and other means
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
stayed at his school until I was sixteen, when I left him for Mr. E.
Ronald's academy on the hill. Here I became intimate with the son of
Mr. Barnard, a 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, 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 Island of Tinian, and other places he had visited in