Edgar Allan Poe and the London Monster Read Online Free

please know that I have taken no offense at your critique of my pathetic scribblings. It was educational to have the opinion of a professional editor.”
    I could feel a wave of heat rush up from my neck to my face, but was saved the embarrassment of making an immediate reply by the arrival of two young men carrying in soup, meat and bread.
    â€œMr. Mackie, please,” the doctor’s wife intervened in a soft voice. “The food is here. Now is the time for pleasant conversation.”
    Mr. Mackie nodded his acquiescence to her and smiled, but his eyes were chill when he gazed back at me. Pathetic scribblings—his words or mine? I had no recollection of the man and certainly no memory of his writing. But making an enemy when imprisoned on a vessel in the middle of the sea was not a terribly prudent course of action. The smell of the food and Dr. Wallis’s newly lit cigar had an unpleasant effect on my stomach. Anxiety added to my discomfort.
    â€œStick with the soup, Mr. Poe,” Dr. Wallis said through a cloud of smoke. “Your stomach is unlikely to be ready for meat yet.”
    Mrs. Wallis filled my bowl with a dark broth and placed it in front of me. I managed a few spoonfuls, but as the pungent steam rose up and mixed with cigar smoke, cookedmeat and potatoes, the ship commenced a terrible dipping and rising. The effect on my senses was immediate and awful. I struggled to escape my position on the bench, and when at last I was on my feet, rushed from the saloon before I could disgrace myself further. The booming laughter of the man in the terrible suit followed me as I emerged into open air and staggered for the side of the ship, where I expelled the contents of my stomach, thankfully without witness. After the waves of dyspepsia passed, I gulped down the night air. How could I rejoin my fellow travelers after my uncouth exit? Then I remembered the letter. I retrieved it from my pocket and hurled it toward the hungry sea before my mission could be interrupted again. As the sheets of paper disappeared into the night, I wished my humiliation would fly away with them.
    When at last I turned from the water, fear tugged at me as a shadow flitted across the deck and hid itself in the murk. Had the antagonized scribbler come to defend his artistry in a cowardly manner? I stood there, frozen, fear prickling up and down my back with each creak and groan of the ship, knowing that in my enervated condition, a confrontation would surely not go my way.
    â€œWandering the vessel alone in darkness is foolhardy, Mr. Poe,” Dr. Wallis said, as he and his wife emerged from the gloom to rescue me again. “The decks are treacherous when slick with seawater. Come, let us lead the way.” My new friends linked their arms through mine, led me to my stateroom, and bade me goodnight.
    If I had hoped that solitude would provide succor from my shame, I was wrong. The wan candlelight and creeping shadows added unease to my self-reproach. Finally I put pen to paper and wrote a letter to my beloved wife, describing the camaraderie amongst the passengers, the benevolent weather,the halcyon sea, the tales and poems I had completed to profitably pass the time. And then I sealed that wild fiction with wax and left it in my writing desk until it could be sent back to Philadelphia when the ship returned.
    27 Bury Street, London
Wednesday morning, 19 March 1788
    Henry, dearest,
    I am relieved to find you at home this morning, seemingly well but for some over-indulgence in drink, judging by the heaviness of your slumbers. Our little company was concerned when you failed to arrive at the chophouse after the performance last night, and we awaited you in vain throughout supper.
    Miss Cole was in a temper as she had witnessed you in lengthy conversation with a Mrs. Wright and her younger sister Miss Pierce, who has yet to snare a husband. The two sisters attend the theatre regularly, but Miss Cole swore that Mrs. Wright had