- end_line
- 15148
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.278Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 15113
- text
- out above my tight girdle with water. I strove to tear it off; but it
was looped together here and there, and the strings were not then to be
sundered by hand. I whipped out my knife, that was tucked at my belt,
and ripped my jacket straight up and down, as if I were ripping open
myself. With a violent struggle I then burst out of it, and was free.
Heavily soaked, it slowly sank before my eyes.
Sink! sink! oh shroud! thought I; sink forever! accursed jacket that
thou art!
“See that white shark!” cried a horrified voice from the taffrail;
“he’ll have that man down his hatchway! Quick! the _grains!_ the
_grains!_”
The next instant that barbed bunch of harpoons pierced through and
through the unfortunate jacket, and swiftly sped down with it out of
sight.
Being now astern of the frigate, I struck out boldly toward the
elevated pole of one of the life-buoys which had been cut away. Soon
after, one of the cutters picked me up. As they dragged me out of the
water into the air, the sudden transition of elements made my every
limb feel like lead, and I helplessly sunk into the bottom of the boat.
Ten minutes after, I was safe on board, and, springing aloft, was
ordered to reeve anew the stun’-sail-halyards, which, slipping through
the blocks when I had let go the end, had unrove and fallen to the
deck.
The sail was soon set; and, as if purposely to salute it, a gentle
breeze soon came, and the Neversink once more glided over the water, a
soft ripple at her bows, and leaving a tranquil wake behind.
- title
- Chunk 3