Some of us slept out on deck rather than negotiate the treacherous
stairs to the uncertain joys of a stateroom in which the trunks had to
be lashed to the walls to avoid painful contact (you see, many of us had
the vivid recollection of the crashes that woke us). In most cases the
dainty bureau scarfs upon which reposed the Cologne bottle, mirror,
powder, hairpins, etc., etc., had dashed into one conglomerate, broken
mass on the floor.

M. A. Gale and Warren Shannon (usually the life of the party) were seen
in dejected heaps, with only half-closed eyes visible above the steamer
robes.

Mrs. Carrie Schwabacher gathered about the piano those well enough to be
about (after the storm had been raging for two days and nights), playing
old-fashioned songs, to try to raise the drooping spirits.

Chanticleer never greeted the morning with gayer spirits than this
party, when we saw the clouds had rolled away, and when someone
repeated, "On the road to Mandilay, where the flying fishes play" (while
we watched the flying fishes play), all the old familiar quotations took
on a new significance of realty.



Chapter IV



On October 10, Dorothy Gee, the Chinese girl banker of San Francisco,
presided over the ceremony celebrating the tenth anniversary of the