Dec. 24. The gale to-day exceeded anything which we have had. The sight
of the ocean was wild beyond description. I went on deck and held on,
to see the tempest. The ship went down into deep places, more profound,
seemingly, than ever before. But she is a noble sea boat. We have
understood how men become enthusiastically attached to the vessel which
they are ready to think has consciously borne them around the globe.
You soon are so much used to the wild behavior of the sea that you
lose all apprehension of danger. Some experiences in the cabin, in bad
weather, make you feel that you are more safe on deck where you seem
to have more ‘sea room.’ It is hard to walk in the cabin; the walls
are so near you that your eye is more affected with the motion than on
deck. You must watch for a windward roll, which does not let you down
so low or so violently as a lee roll; then you run to your seat or to
a side of the cabin, where you grasp something till the lee lurch has
spent itself, when you make for the next point, like runners in playing
ball. The difficulty of lifting your feet is marvellous. You are as
really cumbered as though you had weights on your feet, or wore heavy
clothing. It is amusing to see even the captain pause in the middle of
the cabin, unable to move, his feet judiciously wide apart, waiting for
the back roll to restore the level. He retorts by expressing the wish
that the congregation at home could see their pastor in his efforts to
get across the cabin.
But it is not all fun. I was sitting about six feet from the stove in
the dining-room, in the forward cabin, in the low easy-chair which we
brought from home. The back legs were inside a closet, the threshold
of which it was hoped would serve for a stay against sliding; when the
ship gave a lurch, and I went head first into the low wooden box, in
which the stove, a very heavy one, stood, my weight pushing the stove
out of place, and bringing me down on my knees and wrists, the chair
following me on my back. The steward ran and helped me up. After a
few moments I was well, but I record this as a merciful preservation.
Feeling strong and able-bodied, I have no trouble from such mishaps,
but I would not advise a feeble person to go to sea, certainly not
round Cape Horn; but if he must go, to be as careful in the cabin as he
can see that he must be on deck.