there was a sublime repose in the spectacle of the huge walking
beams, alternately rising and falling, slowly, calmly, regularly, as
if the Nevada were on a holiday trip within the Golden Gate. At
eight in the evening we could hear each other speak, and a little
later, through the great masses of hissing drift we discerned black
water. At nine Captain Blethen appeared, smoking a cigar with
nonchalance, and told us that the hurricane had nearly boxed the
compass, and had been the most severe he had known for seventeen
years. This grand old man, nearly the oldest captain in the
Pacific, won our respect and confidence from the first, and his
quiet and masterly handling of this dilapidated old ship is beyond
all praise.

When the strain of apprehension was mitigated, we became aware that
we had not had anything to eat since breakfast, a clean sweep having
been made, not only of the lunch, but of all the glass in the racks
above it; but all requests to the stewards were insufficient to
procure even biscuits, and at eleven we retired supperless to bed,
amidst a confusion of awful sounds, and were deprived of lights as
well as food. When we asked for food or light, and made weak
appeals on the ground of faintness, the one steward who seemed to
dawdle about for the sole purpose of making himself disagreeable,
always replied, "You can't get anything, the stewards are on duty."
We were not accustomed to recognize that stewards had any other duty
than that of feeding the passengers, but under the circumstances we
meekly acquiesced. We were allowed to know that a part of the
foreguards had been carried way, and that iron stanchions four
inches thick had been gnarled and twisted like candy sticks, and the
constant falling of the saloon casing of the mainmast, showed
something wrong there. A heavy clang, heard at intervals by day and