That's the
feeling.
"So I'm going to confine my tale pretty closely to myself and what
pulled me through. . . . But before I get to this I must tell you of
two shocks that fell on me before I came to it, and seemed to promise
that the books were all wrong and not half vivid enough. I dare say
that quite a number of survivors have tried to paint the sense of
loneliness that swooped on them in the first few seconds after their
ship had slid down. But I'll swear I had read nothing to prepare me
for it. . . . It's not a ship--it's a continent--that vanishes.
The little hole it has made in the water calls to the whole ocean to
cover it, and the ocean widens out its horizon by ten times all
around, at once pouring in and spreading itself to isolate you ten
times farther from help. . . . Nobody who hasn't been through this
and felt it for himself can understand how promptly and easily--
without help of quenching their thirst in salt water--men go mad, in
open boats, at sea.
"But I believe the shock of loneliness at sunrise was even more
hideous. One is prepared for it, in a way; otherwise it would, I am
sure, be far more hideous.
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