370 THE FAT OF THE LAND 



from out the Irish Sea, struck us. We were go- 

 ing nearly with it, and the good ship pitched and 

 reared like an angry horse, but did not roll much. 

 Pitching is harder to bear than rolling, and the 

 decks were quickly vacated. 



I turned into my stateroom soon after ten 

 o'clock, and then happened a thing which will 

 hold a place in my memory so long as I have 

 one. I did not feel sleepy, but I was nervous, 

 restless, and half sick. I lay on my lounge for 

 perhaps half an hour, and then felt impelled to 

 go on deck. I wrapped myself in a great water- 

 proof ulster, pulled my storm cap over my ears, 

 and climbed the companion way. Two or three 

 electric bulbs in sheltered places on deck only 

 served to make the darkness more intense. I 

 crawled forward of the ladies' cabin, and, sup- 

 porting myself against the donkey-engine, peered 

 at the light above the crow's-nest and tried to 

 think that I could see the man on watch in the 

 nest. I did see him for an instant, when the 

 next flash of lightning came, and also two officers 

 on the bridge ; and I knew that Captain Bahrens 

 was in the chart house. When the next flash 

 came, I saw the other lookout man making his 

 short turns on the narrow space of bow deck, 

 and was tempted to join him ; why, I do not 

 know. I crept past the donkey-engine, holding 

 fast to it as I went, until I reached the iron gate 

 that closes the narrow passage to the bow deck. 

 With two silver dollars in my teeth I staggered 



