middle of the Atlantic Ocean!

At last I fell into a deep sleep, a long unconscious holiday of the
soul, undefiled by any dream.

They say that our dreaming is done as we slowly wake; then was I out
of the way of it that night, for a sudden violent rocking awoke me
in one horrid instant. I made it worse by the way I started to a
sitting posture. I had shipped some water. I was shipping more.
Yet all around the sea was glassy; whence then the commotion? As
my ship came trim again, and I saw that my hour was not yet, the
cause occurred to me; and my heart turned so sick that it was minutes
before I had the courage to test my theory.

It was the true one.

A shark had been at my trailing fowls; had taken the bunch of them
together, dragging the legs from my loose fastenings. Lucky they
had been no stronger! Else had I been dragged down to perdition too.

Lucky, did I say? The refinement of cruelty rather; for now I had
neither meat nor drink; my throat was a kiln; my tongue a flame;
and another day at hand.

The stars were out; the sea was silver; the sun was up!

. . . . .

Hours passed.