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 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 the moon—his face was
      paler than any marble, and his hand shook so excessively that he
      could scarcely retain hold of the tiller. I found that something
      had gone wrong, and became seriously alarmed. At this period I
      knew little about the management of a boat, and was now depending
      entirely upon the nautical skill of my friend. The wind, too, had
      suddenly increased, as we were fast getting out of the lee of the
      land—still I was ashamed to betray any trepidation, and for
      almost half an hour maintained a resolute silence. I could stand
      it no longer, however, and spoke to Augustus about the propriety
      of turning back. As before, it was nearly a minute before he made
      answer, or took any notice of my suggestion. “By-and-by,” said he
      at length—“time enough—home by-and-by.” I had expected a similar
      reply, but there was something in the tone of these words which
      filled me with an indescribable feeling of dread. I again looked
      at the speaker attentively. His lips were perfectly livid, and
      his knees shook so violently together that he seemed scarcely
      able to stand. “For God’s sake, Augustus,” I screamed, now
      heartily frightened, “what ails you?—what is the matter?—what
      _are_ you going to do?” “Matter!” he stammered, in the greatest
      apparent surprise, letting go the tiller at the same moment, and
      falling forward into the bottom of the boat—“matter—why, nothing
      is the—matter—going home—d—d—don’t you see?” The whole truth now
      flashed upon me. I flew to him and raised him up. He was
      drunk—beastly drunk—he could no longer either stand, speak, or
      see. His eyes were perfectly glazed; and as I let him go in the
      extremity of my despair, he rolled like a mere log into the
      bilge-water, from which I had lifted him. It was evident that,
      during the evening, he had drunk far more than I suspected, and
      that his conduct in bed had been the result of a
      highly-concentrated state of intoxication—a state which, like
      madness, frequently enables the victim to imitate the outward
      demeanour of one in perfect possession of his senses. The
      coolness of the night air, however, had had its usual effect—the
      mental energy began to yield before its influence—and the
      confused perception which he no doubt then had of his perilous
      situation had assisted in hastening the catastrophe. He was now
      thoroughly insensible, and there was no probability that he would
      be otherwise for many hours. It is hardly possible to conceive the extremity of my terror. The
      fumes of the wine lately taken had evaporated, leaving me doubly
      timid and irresolute. I knew that I was altogether incapable of
      managing the boat, and that a fierce wind and strong ebb tide
      were hurrying us to destruction. A storm was evidently gathering
      behind us; we had neither compass nor provisions; and it was
      clear that, if we held our present course, we should be out of
      sight of land before daybreak.