The works of Edgar Allan Poe; newly collected and edited, with a memoir, critical introductions, and notes, by Edmund Clarence Stedman and George Edward Woodberry; the illustrations by Albert Edward Sterner.

A DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTROM

"How often we made the circuit of the belt it is
impossible to say. We careered round and round for
perhaps an hour, flying rather than floating, getting
gradually more and more into the middle of the surge,
and then nearer and nearer to its horrible inner edge.
All this time I had never let go of the ring-bolt. My
brother was at the stern, holding on to a small empty
water-cask which had been securely lashed under the
coop of the counter, and was the only thing on deck
that had not been swept overboard when the gale first
took us. As we approached the brink of the pit he
let go his hold upon this, and made for the ring, from
which, in the agony of his terror, he endeavored to
force my hands, as it was not large enough to afford
us both a secure grasp. I never felt deeper grief
than when I saw him attempt this act-although I
knew he was a madman when he did it - a raving
maniac through sheer fright. I did not care, however, to contest the point with him. I knew it could
make no difference whether either of us held on at
all; so I let him have the bolt, and went astern to the
cask. This there was no great difficulty in doing; for
the smack flew round steadily enough, and upon an
even keel - only swaying to and fro, with the immense
sweeps and swelters of the whirl. Scarcely had I
secured myself in my new position, when we gave a
wild lurch to starboard, and rushed headlong into the
abyss. I muttered a hurried prayer to God, and
thought all was over.
"As I felt the sickening sweep of the descent, I
had instinctively tightened my hold upon the barrel,
and closed my eyes. For some seconds I dared not
open them -while I expected instant destruction, and
wondered that I was not already in my death-struggles
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