and aft; and on our weather side, attached to smokestack
guys and rigging, were huge rope-nettings, hung there for the purpose of
breaking the force of the seas and so saving our mess-room doors. But
the doors were smashed and the mess-rooms washed out just the same. And
yet, out of it all, arose but the one feeling, namely, of monotony.

In contrast with the foregoing, about the liveliest eight days of my life
were spent in a small boat on the west coast of Korea. Never mind why I
was thus voyaging up the Yellow Sea during the month of February in below-
zero weather. The point is that I was in an open boat, a _sampan_, on a
rocky coast where there were no light-houses and where the tides ran from
thirty to sixty feet. My crew were Japanese fishermen. We did not speak
each other's language. Yet there was nothing monotonous about that trip.
Never shall I forget one particular cold bitter dawn, when, in the thick
of driving snow, we took in sail and dropped our small anchor. The wind
was howling out of the northwest, and we were on a lee shore. Ahead and
astern, all escape was cut off by rocky headlands, against whose bases
burst the unbroken seas. To windward a short distance, seen only between
the snow-squalls, was a low rocky reef. It was this that inadequately
protected us from the whole Yellow Sea that thundered in upon us.

The Japanese crawled under a communal rice mat and went to sleep. I
joined them, and for several hours we dozed fitfully. Then a sea deluged
us out with icy water, and we found several inches of snow on top the
mat. The reef to windward was disappearing under the rising tide, and
moment by moment the seas broke more strongly over the rocks. The
fishermen studied the shore anxiously. So did I, and with a sailor's
eye, though I could see little chance for a swimmer to gain that surf-
hammered line of rocks. I made signs toward the headlands on either
flank. The Japanese shook their heads. I indicated that dreadful lee
shore. Still they shook their heads and did nothing. My conclusion was
that they were paralysed by the hopelessness of the situation. Yet our
extremity increased with every minute, for the rising tide was robbing us
of the reef that served as buffer. It soon became a case of swamping at
our anchor. Seas were splashing on board in growing volume, and we baled
constantly. And still my fishermen crew eyed the surf-battered shore and
did nothing.

At last, afte