There Were Men And Women Of Every Age And Complexion, With Faces Of
Every Possible Shade Of Expression.
Defiance, resolute and stern,
desperate resolves never to give in, and that very same defiant
determination sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.
A deep
abyss of abdominal discontent, revealing afar the shadow, the
penumbra, of the approaching retch. And there were _bouleversements,_
and hoarse confidences to the sea of every degree of misery. The wind
was really risen quite to a gale, and the sea ran with fearful power. Two
sailors, standing near, said, "I wouldn't say it only to you, Jack, but
in all the time I've crossed this here channel, I've seen nothin' like
this."
"Nor I neither," was the reply.
About mid channel a wave struck the windward quarter, just behind the
wheel, with a stroke like a rock from a ballista, smashed in the
bulwarks, stove the boat, which fell and hung in the water by one end,
and sent the ladies, who were sitting there with boxes, baskets,
shawls, hats, spectacles, umbrellas, cloaks, down to leeward, in a
pond of water. One girl I saw with a bruise on her forehead as large
as an egg, and the blood streaming from her nostrils. Shrieks
resounded, and for a few moments, we had quite a tragic time.
About this time H. gave in, and descended to Tartarus, where the floor
was compactly, densely stowed with one mass of heaving wretches, with
nothing but washbowls to relieve the sombre mosaic.
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