rily steady and solid as the mainland itself, was
pitching and rolling not much less "lively" than a Dutch galliot in a
sea-way; and the tug that was to take us on board parted three hawsers
before she could make fast alongside. It was hard to keep one's footing
on the shaking, slippery bridge, but in ten minutes all staggered or
tumbled, as choice or chance directed, on to the deck of the little
steamer. I was looking for a dry corner, when an American passenger made
room for me very courteously, and I begun to talk to him--about the
weather, of course. It was a keen, intellectual face, pleasant withal,
and kindly, and in its habitual expression not devoid of genial humor.
But, at that moment, it was possessed by an unutterable misery. No
wonder.

"I was ill the whole way over from America," he said, "and _then_ we
started with bright weather and a fair wind."

I was much attracted by the voice, betraying scarcely any Transatlantic
accent: it was quiet and calm in tone, like that of any brave man on his
way to encounter some irresistible pain or woe; but saddened by an agony
of anticipation, he presaged, only too truly, "the burden of the
atmosphere and the wrath to come."

Another struggle and scramble--and we are on board, at last. It is some
comfort to exchange that wretched little wet tug for the deck of the
Asia; though a trifle unsteady even now, she oscillates after the sober
and stately fashion befitting a mighty "liner." Half an hour sees the
end of the long stream of mail-bags, and the huge bales of newspapers
shipped; then the moorings are cast loose; there rises the faintest echo
of a cheer--who could be enthusiastic on such a morning?--the vast
wheels turn slowly and sullenly, as if hating the hard work before them;
and we are fairly off.

The waves and weather grew rapidly wilder; as we neared blue water, just
after passing the light, we saw a large ship driving helplessly and--the
sailors said--hopelessly, among the breakers of the North Sands. She had
tried to run in without a pilot, and _ours_ seemed to think her fate the
justest of judgments; but to disinterested and unprofessional spectators
the sight was very sad, and somewhat discouraging. So with omen and
augury, as well as the wind dead against us.

"The Sword went out to sea."

All that day and night "The Asia" staggered and weltered on through the
yeasty channel waves, breaking in her passengers rather roughly for a
conflict with vas