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

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 sailboat 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; and, when I now think of
them, it appears to me a thousand wonders that I am alive to-day.
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 toward 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 (it being near one when the party broke up), and
without saying a word on his favorite 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 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 coolly, however, 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 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 lumber-yard of
Pankey & Co., and almost thumping her side 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 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