A Descent Into the Maelström

the hurricane. I was borne violently into the channel of the Ström, and in a few minutes was hurried down the coast into the ‘grounds’ of the fishermen. A boat picked me up⁠—exhausted from fatigue⁠—and (now that the danger was removed) speechless from the memory of its horror. Those who drew me on board were my old mates and daily companions⁠—but they knew me no more than they would have known a traveller from the spirit-land. My hair which had been raven-black the day before, was as white as you see it now. They say too that the whole expression of my countenance had changed. I told them my story⁠—they did not believe it. I now tell it to you ⁠—and I can scarcely expect you to put more faith in it than did the merry fishermen of Lofoden.”