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The Oblong Box by Edgar Allan Poe
Some years ago I engaged passage from Charleston, S. C., to the city of New York, in the fine
packet-ship _Independence_, Captain Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month
(June), weather permitting; and on the fourteenth I went on board to arrange some matters in
my stateroom. I found that we were to have a great many
passengers, including a more than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my
acquaintances; and among other names I was rejoiced to see that of Mr. Cornelius Wyatt,
a young artist, for whom I entertained feelings of warm friendship. He had been, with me,
a fellow-student at C—— University, where we were very much together. He had the ordinary
temperament of genius, and was a compound of misanthropy, sensibility, and enthusiasm.
To these qualities he united the warmest and truest heart which ever beat in a human ***.
I observed that his name was carded upon three staterooms: and upon again referring to the
list of passengers I found that he had engaged passage for himself, wife, and two sisters—his
own. The staterooms were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one above the other.
These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly narrow as to be insufficient for more than
one person; still, I could not comprehend why there were three staterooms for these
four persons. I was, just at that epoch, in one of those moody frames of mind which make
a man abnormally inquisitive about trifles: and I confess with shame that I busied myself
in a variety of ill-bred and preposterous conjectures about this matter of the supernumerary
stateroom. It was no business of mine, to be sure; but with none the less pertinacity
did I occupy myself in attempts to resolve the enigma. At last I reached a conclusion
which wrought in me great wonder why I had not arrived at it before. "It is a servant,
of course," I said; "what a fool I am not sooner to have thought of so obvious a solution!"
And then I again repaired to the list, but here I saw distinctly that no servant was
to come with the party: although, in fact, it had been the original design to bring one,
for the words "and servant" had been first written and then overscored. "Oh, extra baggage,
to be sure," I now said to myself; "something he wishes not to be put in the hold, something
to be kept under his own eye,—ah, I have it! a painting or so, and this is what he
has been bargaining about with Nicolino, the Italian Jew." This idea satisfied me and I
dismissed my curiosity for the nonce. Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and
most amiable and clever girls they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never
yet seen her. He had often talked about her in my presence, however, and in his usual
style of enthusiasm. He described her as of surpassing beauty, wit, and accomplishment.
I was, therefore, quite anxious to make her acquaintance.
On the day in which I visited the ship (the fourteenth), Wyatt and party were also to
visit it, so the Captain informed me, and I waited on board an hour longer than I had
designed in hope of being presented to the bride; but then an apology came. "Mrs. W.
was a little indisposed, and would decline coming on board until to-morrow at the hour
of sailing." The morrow having arrived, I was going from
my hotel to the wharf, when Captain Hardy met me and said that, "owing to circumstances"
(a stupid but convenient phrase), "he rather thought the _Independence_ would not sail
for a day or two, and that when all was ready he would send up and let me know." This I
thought strange, for there was a stiff southerly breeze; but as "the circumstances" were not
forthcoming, although I pumped for them with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but
to return home and digest my impatience at leisure.
I did not receive the expected message from the Captain for nearly a week. It came at
length, however, and I immediately went on board. The ship was crowded with passengers,
and everything was in the bustle attendant upon making sail. Wyatt's party arrived in
about ten minutes after myself. There were the two sisters, the bride, and the artist—the
latter in one of his customary fits of moody misanthropy. I was too well used to these,
however, to pay them any special attention. He did not even introduce me to his wife;
this courtesy devolving, perforce, upon his sister Marian, a very sweet and intelligent
girl, who in a few hurried words made us acquainted. Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled; and when
she raised her veil in acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly astonished.
I should have been much more so, however, had not long experience advised me not to
trust, with too implicit a reliance, the enthusiastic descriptions of my friend the artist, when
indulging in comments upon the loveliness of woman. When beauty was the theme, I well
knew with what facility he soared into the regions of the purely ideal.
The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt as a decidedly plain-looking woman.
If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, very far from it. She was dressed, however,
in exquisite taste, and then I had no doubt that she had captivated my friend's heart
by the more enduring graces of the intellect and soul. She said very few words, and passed
at once into her stateroom with Mr. W. My old inquisitiveness now returned. There
was no servant, that was a settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage.
After some delay a cart arrived at the wharf with an oblong pine box, which was everything
that seemed to be expected. Immediately upon its arrival we made sail, and in a short time
were safely over the bar and standing out to sea.
The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was about six feet in length by two and
a half in breadth: I observed it attentively and like to be precise. Now, this shape was
peculiar; and no sooner had I seen it than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of
my guessing. I had reached the conclusion, it will be remembered, that the extra baggage
of my friend the artist would prove to be pictures, or at least a picture, for I knew
he had been for several weeks in conference with Nicolino; and now here was a box, which,
from its shape, could possibly contain nothing in the world but a copy of Leonardo's _Last
Supper_; and a copy of this very _Last Supper_, done by Rubini the younger at Florence, I
had known for some time to be in the possession of Nicolino. This point, therefore, I considered
as sufficiently settled. I chuckled excessively when I thought of my acumen. It was the first
time I had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his artistical secrets; but here he
evidently intended to steal a march upon me and smuggle a fine picture to New York, under
my very nose; expecting me to know nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him well,
now and hereafter. One thing, however, annoyed me not a little.
The box did not go into the extra stateroom. It was deposited in Wyatt's own; and there,
too, it remained, occupying very nearly the whole of the floor, no doubt to the exceeding
discomfort of the artist and his wife; this the more especially as the tar or paint with
which it was lettered in sprawling capitals emitted a strong, disagreeable, and, to my
fancy, a peculiarly disgusting odour. On the lid were painted the words: "Mrs. Adelaide
Curtis, Albany, New York. Charge of Cornelius Wyatt, Esq. This side up. To be handled with
care." Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis
of Albany was the artist's wife's mother; but then I looked upon the whole address as
a mystification, intended especially for myself. I made up my mind, of course, that the box
and contents would never get farther north than the studio of my misanthropic friend
in Chambers Street, New York. For the first three or four days we had fine
weather, although the wind was dead ahead, having chopped round to the northward immediately
upon our losing sight of the coast. The passengers were, consequently, in high spirits and disposed
to be social. I must except, however, Wyatt and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, and,
I could not help thinking, uncourteously, to the rest of the party. Wyatt's conduct
I did not so much regard. He was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit,—in fact, he was
morose; but in him I was prepared for eccentricity. For the sisters, however, I could make no
excuse. They secluded themselves in their staterooms during the greater part of the
passage, and absolutely refused, although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication
with any person on board. Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable.
That is to say, she was chatty; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea.
She became excessively intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my profound astonishment,
evinced no equivocal disposition to coquet with the men. She amused us all very much.
I say "amused," and scarcely know how to explain myself. The truth is, I soon found that Mrs.
W. was far oftener laughed at than with. The gentlemen said little about her; but the ladies
in a little while pronounced her "a good-hearted thing, rather indifferent-looking, totally
uneducated, and decidedly vulgar." The great wonder was, how Wyatt had been entrapped into
such a match. Wealth was the general solution, but this I knew to be no solution at all;
for Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any expectations from
any source whatever. "He had married," he said, "for love, and for love only; and his
bride was far more than worthy of his love." When I thought of these expressions on the
part of my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. Could it be possible that he was
taking leave of his senses? What else could I think? He, so refined, so intellectual,
so fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the faulty, and so keen an appreciation
of the beautiful! To be sure, the lady seemed especially fond of him, particularly so in
his absence, when she made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been said
by her "beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word "husband" seemed forever, to use one of her
own delicate expressions,—forever "on the tip of her tongue." In the meantime it was
observed by all on board that he avoided her in the most pointed manner, and, for the most
part, shut himself up alone in his stateroom, where, in fact, he might have been said to
live altogether, leaving his wife at full liberty to amuse herself as she thought best
in the public society of the main cabin. My conclusion, from what I saw and heard,
was that the artist, by some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of enthusiastic
and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite himself with a person altogether beneath
him, and that the natural result, entire and speedy disgust, had ensued. I pitied him from
the bottom of my heart, but could not, for that reason, quite forgive his incommunicativeness
in the matter of the _Last Supper_. For this I resolved to have my revenge.
One day he came up on deck, and, taking his arm as had been my wont, I sauntered with
him backward and forward. His gloom, however (which I considered quite natural under the
circumstances), seemed entirely unabated. He said little, and that moodily, and with
evident effort. I ventured a jest or two, and he made a sickening attempt at a smile.
Poor fellow! as I thought of his wife I wondered that he could have heart to put on even the
semblance of mirth. At last I ventured a home thrust. I determined to commence a series
of covert insinuations, or innuendos, about the oblong box, just to let him perceive,
gradually, that I was not altogether the butt, or victim, of his little bit of pleasant mystification.
My first observation was by way of opening a masked battery. I said something about the
"peculiar shape of that box"; and, as I spoke the words I smiled knowingly, winked, and
touched him gently with my forefinger in the ribs.
The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless pleasantry convinced me at once that he was
mad. At first he stared at me as if he found it impossible to comprehend the witticism
of my remark; but as its point seemed slowly to make its way into his brain, his eyes,
in the same proportion, seemed protruding from their sockets. Then he grew very red,
then hideously pale, then, as if highly amused with what I had insinuated, he began a loud
and boisterous laugh, which, to my astonishment, he kept up, with gradually increasing vigour,
for ten minutes or more. In conclusion, he fell flat and heavily upon the deck. When
I ran to uplift him, to all appearance he was dead.
I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we brought him to himself. Upon reviving he
spoke incoherently for some time. At length we bled him and put him to bed. The next morning
he was quite recovered, so far as regarded his mere bodily health. Of his mind I say
nothing, of course. I avoided him during the rest of the passage, by advice of the Captain,
who seemed to coincide with me altogether in my views of his insanity, but cautioned
me to say nothing on this head to any person on board.
Several circumstances occurred immediately after this fit of Wyatt's which contributed
to heighten the curiosity with which I was already possessed. Among other things, this:
I had been nervous; drank too much strong green tea, and slept ill at night,—in fact,
for two nights I could not be properly said to sleep at all. Now, my stateroom opened
into the main cabin or dining-room, as did those of all the single men on board. Wyatt's
three rooms were in the after-cabin, which was separated from the main one by a slight
sliding door, never locked even at night. As we were almost constantly on a wind, and
the breeze was not a little stiff, the ship heeled to leeward very considerably; and whenever
her starboard side was to leeward the sliding door between the cabins slid open and so remained,
nobody taking the trouble to get up and shut it. But my berth was in such a position that
when my own stateroom door was open, as well as the sliding door in question (and my own
door was always open on account of the heat), I could see into the after-cabin quite distinctly,
and just at that portion of it, too, where were situated the staterooms of Mr. Wyatt.
Well, during two nights (not consecutive), while I lay awake, I clearly saw Mrs. W.,
about eleven o'clock upon each night, steal cautiously from the stateroom of Mr. W. and
enter the extra room, where she remained until daybreak, when she was called by her husband
and went back. That they were virtually separated was clear. They had separate apartments, no
doubt in contemplation of a more permanent divorce; and here, after all, I thought, was
the mystery of the extra stateroom. There was another circumstance, too, which
interested me much. During the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after
the disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra stateroom, I was attracted by certain singular,
cautious, subdued noises in that of her husband. After listening to them for some time with
thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded perfectly in translating their import. They
were sounds occasioned by the artist in prying open the oblong box by means of a chisel and
mallet, the latter being apparently muffled or deadened by some soft woollen or cotton
substance in which its head was enveloped. In this manner I fancied I could distinguish
the precise moment when he fairly disengaged the lid, also that I could determine when
he removed it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the lower berth in his room; this
latter point I knew, for example, by certain slight taps which the lid made in striking
against the wooden edges of the berth as he endeavoured to lay it down very gently, there
being no room for it on the floor. After this there was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing
more, upon either occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a low sobbing
or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be nearly inaudible, if, indeed, the
whole of this latter noise were not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed
to resemble sobbing or sighing, but, of course, it could not have been either. I rather think
it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely
giving the rein to one of his hobbies, indulging in one of his fits of artistic enthusiasm.
He had opened his oblong box in order to feast his eyes on the pictorial treasure within.
There was nothing in this, however, to make him sob. I repeat, therefore, that it must
have been simply a freak of my own fancy, distempered by good Captain Hardy's green
tea. Just before dawn, on each of the two nights of which I speak, I distinctly heard
Mr. Wyatt replace the lid upon the oblong box, and force the nails into their old places
by means of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from his stateroom, fully
dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from hers.
We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hatteras, when there came a tremendously
heavy blow from the southwest. We were, in a measure, prepared for it, however, as the
weather had been holding out threats for some time. Everything was made snug, alow and aloft;
and, as the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at length, under spanker and foretopsail,
both double-reefed. In this trim we rode safely enough for forty-eight
hours, the ship proving herself an excellent sea-boat in many respects, and shipping no
water of any consequence. At the end of this period, however, the gale had freshened into
a hurricane, and our after-sail split into ribbons, bringing us so much in the trough
of the water that we shipped several prodigious seas, one immediately after the other. By
this accident we lost three men overboard with the caboose, and nearly the whole of
the larboard bulwarks. Scarcely had we recovered our senses before the foretopsail went into
shreds, when we got up a storm staysail, and with this did pretty well for some hours,
the ship heading the sea much more steadily than before.
The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of its abating. The rigging was found
to be ill-fitted and greatly strained; and on the third day of the blow, about five in
the afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in a heavy lurch to windward, went by the board. For
an hour or more we tried in vain to get rid of it, on account of the prodigious rolling
of the ship; and, before we had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and announced four
feet water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps choked and nearly useless.
All was now confusion and despair, but an effort was made to lighten the ship by throwing
overboard as much of her cargo as could be reached, and by cutting away the two masts
that remained. This we at last accomplished, but we were still unable to do anything at
the pumps; and, in the meantime, the leak gained on us very fast.
At sundown the gale had sensibly diminished in violence, and, as the sea went down with
it, we still entertained faint hopes of saving ourselves in the boats. At eight P.M., the
clouds broke away to windward, and we had the advantage of a full moon, a piece of good
fortune which served wonderfully to cheer our drooping spirits.
After incredible labour we succeeded, at length, in getting the long-boat over the side without
material accident, and into this we crowded the whole of the crew and most of the passengers.
This party made off immediately, and, after undergoing much suffering, finally arrived
in safety at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day after the wreck.
Fourteen passengers, with the Captain, remained on board, resolving to trust their fortunes
to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered it without difficulty, although it was only
by a miracle that we prevented it from swamping as it touched the water. It contained, when
afloat, the Captain and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a Mexican officer, wife, four children,
and myself, with a *** valet. We had no room, of course, for anything except
a few positively necessary instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our backs.
No one had thought of even attempting to save anything more. What must have been the astonishment
of all, then, when, having proceeded a few fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up
in the stern-sheets and coolly demanded of Captain Hardy that the boat should be put
back for the purpose of taking in his oblong box!
"Sit down, Mr. Wyatt," replied the Captain, somewhat sternly; "you will capsize us if
you do not sit quite still. Our gunwale is almost in the water now."
"The box!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing, "the box, I say! Captain Hardy, you cannot,
you will not refuse me. Its weight will be but a trifle, it is nothing, mere nothing.
By the mother who bore you—for the love of Heaven—by your hope of salvation, I implore
you to put back for the box!" The Captain for a moment seemed touched by
the earnest appeal of the artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said:
"Mr. Wyatt, you are mad. I cannot listen to you. Sit down, I say, or you will swamp the
boat. Stay! hold him, seize him! he is about to spring overboard! There—I knew it—he
is over!" As the Captain said this, Mr. Wyatt, in fact,
sprang from the boat, and, as we were yet in the lee of the wreck, succeeded, by almost
superhuman exertion, in getting hold of a rope which hung from the forechains. In another
moment he was on board, and rushing frantically down into the cabin.
In the meantime we had been swept astern of the ship, and being quite out of her lee,
were at the mercy of the tremendous sea which was still running. We made a determined effort
to put back, but our little boat was like a feather in the breath of the tempest. We
saw at a glance that the doom of the unfortunate artist was sealed.
As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for as such only could we regard
him) was seen to emerge from the companionway, up which, by dint of strength that appeared
gigantic, he dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in the extremity of astonishment,
he passed rapidly several turns of a three-inch rope, first around the box and then around
his body. In another instant both body and box were in the sea, disappearing suddenly,
at once and forever. We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with
our eyes riveted upon the spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken
for an hour. Finally I hazarded a remark. "Did you observe, Captain, how suddenly they
sank? Was not that an exceedingly singular thing? I confess that I entertained some feeble
hope of his final deliverance when I saw him lash himself to the box and commit himself
to the sea." "They sank as a matter of course," replied
the Captain, "and that like a shot. They will soon rise again, however, but not till the
salt melts." "The salt!" I ***.
"Hush!" said the Captain, pointing to the wife and sisters of the deceased. "We must
talk of these things at some more appropriate time."
We suffered much and made a narrow escape; but fortune befriended us, as well as our
mates in the long-boat. We landed, in fine, more dead than alive, after four days of intense
distress, upon the beach opposite Roanoke Island. We remained here a week, were not
ill-treated by the wreckers, and at length obtained a passage to New York.
About a month after the loss of the _Independence_, I happened to meet Captain Hardy in Broadway.
Our conversation turned, naturally, upon the disaster, and especially upon the sad fate
of poor Wyatt. I thus learned the following particulars:
The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife, two sisters, and a servant. His wife
was indeed, as she had been represented, a most lovely and most accomplished woman. On
the morning of the fourteenth of June (the day in which I first visited the ship), the
lady suddenly sickened and died. The young husband was frantic with grief, but circumstances
imperatively forbade the deferring his voyage to New York. It was necessary to take to her
mother the corpse of his adored wife, and, on the other hand, the universal prejudice
which would prevent his doing so openly was well known. Nine tenths of the passengers
would have abandoned the ship rather than take passage with a dead body.
In this dilemma Captain Hardy arranged that the corpse, being first partially embalmed
and packed, with a large quantity of salt in a box of suitable dimensions, should be
conveyed on board as merchandise. Nothing was to be said of the lady's decease; and,
as it was well understood that Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for his wife, it became necessary
that some person should personate her during the voyage. This the deceased lady's maid
was easily prevailed on to do. The extra stateroom, originally engaged for this girl during her
mistress's life, was now merely retained. In this stateroom the pseudo-wife slept, of
course, every night. In the daytime she performed, to the best of her ability, the part of her
mistress, whose person, it had been carefully ascertained, was unknown to any of the passengers
on board. My own mistake arose, naturally enough, through
too careless, too inquisitive, and too impulsive a temperament. But of late it is a rare thing
that I sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance which haunts me, turn as I will.
There is an hysterical laugh which will forever ring within my ears.
End of The Oblong Box