A Descent into the Maelström

A Descent into the Maelström

A guide leads the narrator up the crag of Helseggen on the Norwegian coast, in Lofoden district, to view the great whirlpool called Moskoe-ström (or Maelström), lying between the islands of Moskoe and Vurrgh. Though his hair is now white and his body broken, the guide says he is not truly old — an event three years past aged him in a single day of six hours' terror. He recounts that he, his elder brother, and his youngest brother owned a seventy-ton fishing smack, and made a dangerous but lucrative practice of fishing near the islands beyond Moskoe, timing their crossing of the Ström's channel to the fifteen minutes of slack water at the turn of the tide. On the tenth of July, 18—, after a productive day's fishing, the three brothers set out for home at seven o'clock to catch the eight o'clock slack. A sudden, unprecedented hurricane struck: both masts broke off instantly, sweeping the youngest brother overboard with the mainmast. The narrator lashed himself to a ring-bolt at the bow; his elder brother clung on near him. Checking his watch, the narrator found it had stopped at seven — they were now late for the slack, and the whirlpool was in full fury dead ahead. The boat was drawn into the belt of foam surrounding the whirl and then into the funnel itself, hanging on the smooth, ebony, whirling inner surface while moonlight through a break in the clouds illuminated the scene. Overcome first by terror, the narrator grew strangely calm, then curious, observing the wreckage revolving around them — timber, barrels, ship fragments — and noting that cylindrical objects and smaller, spherical objects descended more slowly than large or irregularly shaped ones. Realizing this, he resolved to lash himself to an empty water-cask, cut it loose, and leap into the sea, gesturing to his brother to do likewise. His brother, seemingly maddened by fear, refused to leave the ring-bolt and instead tried to seize it from him. The narrator abandoned him to his fate, secured himself to the cask, and threw himself overboard. The smack, with the elder brother still aboard, soon after made violent gyrations and plunged into the abyss below, never to be seen again. The cask carrying the narrator sank only partway before the whirlpool gradually subsided — its funnel widening, its violence lessening — until, at the hour of slack, with clear skies and the moon setting, the narrator found himself floating on the surface near the shore of Lofoden. A boat of fishermen, his own old companions, picked him up, exhausted and speechless with the memory of what he had endured; they did not recognize him, for his hair had turned white and his countenance had altered utterly in that one day. He told them his story, but they did not believe it — just as, he tells the narrator, he can scarcely expect belief now either.

By Edgar Allan Poe · First published 1841 · Genre: Horror, Adventure, Gothic Fiction · 8,025 words

First lines

The ways of God in Nature, as in Providence, are not as our ways; nor are the models that we frame any way commensurate to the vastness, profundity, and unsearchableness of His works, which have a depth in them greater than the well of Democritus. Joseph Glanville

We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag. For some minutes the old man seemed too much exhausted to speak.

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A Descent into the Maelström is listed on Textopian as a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, dated 1841 CE.

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Science Fiction · Fantasy · Adventure · Horror · Mystery · Thriller · Short Story · Classic Literature · Oceanic · Supernatural · Psychological · Philosophical

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