我在掌着舵，好几个钟头不声不响地引着这艘火轮向海上前进的时候，我就有这么个看法。我那时虽然被包裹在黑暗里，然而却能更清楚地看到其他一些人的红彤彤、疯狂而可怕的面孔。我看到的尽是不绝如缕的幢幢鬼影，在浓烟里，在烈火里半隐半现，最后弄得我的心灵里尽是这些类似的幻影，我本人在午夜掌舵时分就很容易打盹，这样一来，我马上就开始昏昏沉沉地睡着了。

　　But that night, in particular, a strange (and ever since inexplicable) thing occurred to me. Starting from a brief standing sleep, I was horribly conscious of something fatally wrong. The jaw-bone tiller smote my side, which leaned against it; in my ears was the low hum of sails, just beginning to shake in the wind; I thought my eyes were open; I was half conscious of putting my fingers to the lids and mechanically stretching them still further apart. But, spite of all this, I could see no compass before me to steer by; though it seemed but a minute since I had been watching the card, by the steady binnacle lamp illuminating it. Nothing seemed before me but a jet gloom, now and then made ghastly by flashes of redness. Uppermost was the impression, that whatever swift, rushing thing I stood on was not so much bound to any haven ahead as rushing from all havens astern. A stark, bewildered feeling, as of death, came over me.

　　尤其是那天晚上，我竟碰到了一件古怪的事情（直到如今还很费解）。我打小睡里惊醒过来，站在那里，就满怀恐怖地觉察到有什么致命的不对头的事儿了。我腰间靠着的那支骨制舵柄竟猛击起我的腰际来；耳朵里听到篷帆开始在风里抖索，发出一阵低沉的哼哼声；我心想，我的眼睛是张开的；我半信半疑地把我的手指凑到眼皮上，硬把它撑得更大。但是，这都不顶事；我根本看不到我面前那只掌舵用的罗盘；虽然好象我在一分钟以前，还靠着那盏坚定的罗盘灯光望过那罗盘面。在我面前似乎什么都看不到，光是一股阴森森的喷水，不时地给赤热的火光照耀得鬼一般可怕。首先掠过我心里的念头是，尽管我多快多急地笔直驶去，但与其说是要奔向前边的任何避难所，不如说是要赶紧离开后边一切的避难所。我突然感到非常惶惑无措，好象死了一般。